


Open the Door

by meglioseoravai



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Canon, Anxiety, Bad Decisions, Depressed Min Yoongi | Suga, Drunken Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Min Yoongi | Suga, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Male Friendship, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Min Yoongi | Suga-centric, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sasaeng Fan(s), Slow Burn, Smut, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meglioseoravai/pseuds/meglioseoravai
Summary: It was then that two things happened. He noticed Jimin, gawking stunned at him from the living room, hair still ruffled from the bed. At the same time, on the other side of the thin door, a sinister sound of something repeatedly, furiously hitting the door.Once.Twice.Thrice.And then, quiet.An infinite interval passed before either of them moved. Yoongi released his breath; head light, hands chilling cold.“Jimin, call the police.”(Or in which Yoongi has a busy life, a stalker, and feelings for Park Jimin.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by lovely [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin)! Thank you!
> 
> Enjoy!

Yoongi was having a very bad day. He was feeling particularly restless, antsy hands and jumpy legs, and not because of the large group of people lined up to meet with them. He wanted to go home and sleep, or just forget everything circling in his mind. Maybe he's a bit of a masochist too, he considered, because every once in a while one hand would creep inside his pocket to check if the letter was still there.

The letter that was fucking with his sanity. He had to tell someone.

 

**

“I want to talk to you,” he said as soon as he saw their leader walking by the quiet, dark apartment. It was later in the evening and all the kids were resting in their rooms or sprawled in front of the TV. Namjoon, who had his phone in his hands and was probably headed to the living room, looked at him with a hint of surprise.

“Sure.”

Yoongi walked to his bedroom and closed the door behind the other man. He only had a few minutes before Seokjin would come back from his shower.

Yet, he could not force himself to speak.

“Is this about the hidden camera?” Namjoon asked, breaking silence. He was observing him from Seokjin’s bed, waiting patiently with the shadow of a smile.

Namjoon was the third member asking about a hidden camera. Why everyone was convinced he was planning a prank, he had no fucking idea. He had been more jittery than usual, ok, but that didn't mean he was planning something, for fuck sake. He crossed his arms on the chest and frowned.

“No.” And then:

“You remember when I hurt my hand at Narita?”

“Of course.” Now the glint of humor in Namjoon’s eyes was unmistakable. That incident had made everyone laugh and it wasn’t only because Yoongi had fallen down in the airport, that fact alone wasn’t funny. Rather, the root of the laughter stemmed from the fact that he’d broken one finger, the middle finger.

“Well yeah…” Yoongi started, embarrassed despite himself.  “It wasn’t an accident.”

Namjoon stared at him for a second, puzzled.

“What?”

“I didn’t slip,” he explained. “Someone grasped my hair and shoved me down.”

In a flash, all the amusement left Namjoon’s face. 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I thought it was unnecessary.”

Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“So why did you change your mind now?”

Yoongi took the letter from his pocket and threw it on the bed. Folded as it was, it looked almost innocent. His leader carefully picked it up and opened it. A small transparent package fell on his lap while he read. His face turned white in sudden, dreadful realization.

“Is this…”

“It’s not ketchup.”

“And the hair…” Namjoon glanced in his direction even if he already knew the answer. The hair, fallen out from the envelope, had the same light blue shade as Yoongi’s. They stayed in silence for a minute. Namjoon staring aghast at the red words and Yoongi standing still in front of the door. For once, he was grateful that Seokjin hyung loved long, hot showers.

After an agonizing pause, it was his leader who broke the silence again.

“Is this the first one?”

“No.”

“Where are the others?”

“I trashed them.”

Namjoon scowled at his answer.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

He jumped up and with a couple of steps, he was already in front of Yoongi, glowering in anger. Whether it was at him, the letter, or the entire situation, Yoongi could not tell.

“I’m sorry if this will come out bad, hyung,” he spoke, “but it’s my job to know this kind of shit. You should have told me sooner.”

Yoongi could only agree.

“I’m sorry.”

It was good enough for Namjoon, whose expression softened a bit.

“Ok. I will tell the managers about this and I’ll wait for a bit before telling the others. Let’s see how it goes,” he said giving Yoongi a pat on the shoulder. He then went out of the room in a stride, nearly colliding with a wet, startled Jin.

“Did you two fight or something?”

“No,” Yoongi answered, before covering his ears with his headphones and shutting the world out.

  

**

It took no time for the members to pick up the tension. Not that anything had happened. Yoongi hadn’t received any other letter and the company had doubled up security. Still, they were all quieter and tenser than usual. 

“It all began that time they fought.” The members were all bundled together in KBS Radio's waiting room, resting for a couple of minutes before they had to leave. Yoongi was sitting on the sofa trying his best to get some much-needed rest. It wasn’t easy; murmurs upon murmurs kept flying his way.

“Jin-hyung said it seemed super serious.”

“What they were fighting about?”

"You kids should mind your own business,” Seokjin’s voice scolded.

Yoongi could barely hold back a snort of disbelief as if it hadn’t been Jin who had first spread the gossip.

“I wish they could at least tell us what happened. I have never felt so awkward in the dorm before,” Jungkook said.

“You feeling awkward? Before debut, you were the king of awkward, Kookie!”  

"That was because you were always half-naked!”

A hand suddenly touched Yoongi's shoulder, snapping him awake from his half-slumber. Namjoon was kneeling in front of him, an arm still stretched outwards, his expression an odd mix of amusement and worry.    

“Fuck, Joonie,” Yoongi complained morosely, making the nearest cordi-noona frown in disapproval. He ignored her.

“Sorry. Just wanted to say Hobeom hyung can bring you to the studio if you still want to work.”

Yoongi’s day suddenly brightened, sleepiness forgotten. He had been asking for a while to have some hours alone for himself.

“He will bring you home when you’re finished.”

“Sure, thanks,” he said patting Namjoon on the leg. Invigorated, Yoongi lay back down while the other nodded and walked away. It was only after a couple of minutes of silence that he heard the kids whispering again:

“Wow, their fight is super serious.”

“Told you.”

The sigh that he let out was nothing short of expected.

  

**

Hobeom hyung was a nice manager. He was kind, attentive, and especially quiet, a quality Yoongi appreciated in people. That was why he was feeling a slow-mounting guilt in letting him stay overnight. It was three o’clock and he had just finished a cup of black coffee. Hobeom hyung’s head was hanging lower and lower. He gently shook the man.

“Hyung.”

Hobeom was awake and alert in less than a second. “What?” 

“Go home. I can catch a taxi back.”

“No way, Min Yoongi. I drive you.”

“I will stay here till morning. I will leave around 7 or 8, with the first light.”

“I don’t think it depends on the time,” the man yawned without bothering to cover his mouth. “I need to make sure you get home safe.”

“I can call you when I arrive,” Yoongi insisted.

The manager was starting to yield, he could see. So he added:

“I’ll call a taxi before I leave, so it would wait for me at the entrance. I’ll also ask security to go with me.”

Hobeom hyung was considering it, scratching the hair above the ear.  

“The other managers won’t be happy…” the man tried to protest.

“I would be alone only on the elevator.”

After a couple of seconds, Hobeom hyung let out a sigh.

“Fine,” he relinquished, rubbing his eyes. “You can stay by yourself.”

“Thanks.”

The man snorted and stood up to put on his coat.

“Yeah, yeah. Take that smirk off your face. Like I don’t know you’re sending me away to be alone.”

Yoongi judged it best to stay silent. The manager stopped with one hand on the handle and sent him a meaningful glance.

 “Call me. If you don’t, I’ll tell Bang Si-hyuk. Am I understood?”

Yoongi nodded and Hobeom hyung was too tired to care for anything more. He closed the door and left.

Freedom, at last.

 

It was some hours and no less than the tenth yawn in a few minutes later that Yoongi decided to check his phone.  No wonder his mind was starting to abandon him, he thought. It was six in the fucking morning. Time to pack everything and head home. He turned off computer, equipment, and lights, grabbed his things and headed out. While waiting for the elevator he called a cab and left a message on his manager’s phone. He was remembering all Hobeom hyung’s instructions. Such a good dongsaeng. Seokjin would be proud.

Hoon-shi, the security guard, was half asleep when he accompanied Yoongi out. They stood silently in the cool and dry morning air. The tall buildings surrounding the company created a shadowed area, but the sky was bright blue and spotless over their heads. It was going to be the perfect March day, chilly and luminous with tepid sunlight. Looking up, Yoongi was a bit regretful that he would probably spend all daytime sleeping anyway.

Soon enough the taxi arrived. With a sigh of relief and a half-murmured goodbye, Hoon-shi fled inside. Yoongi climbed in the car, told the driver his address and promptly fell asleep. 

A loud thump.

A shout.

Yoongi woke up, startled, heart thundering in his chest. For a second he didn’t know what was happening or where he was. Then his brain caught up. He was in the taxi, on the way to the dorm.

“Sorry, sir.” The driver’s eyes looked at him through the crooked rear-view mirror. “That motorbike came out from nowhere.” 

“No problem,” Yoongi murmured, burying himself back in his big coat. He had lost a year of his life in fright, nothing important. At least they were close to home, he thought sourly. He could recognize the hot-pot restaurant in the corner.

He couldn’t go out of that taxi fast enough when they finally arrived. He had been relaxed and content all night long, then the brusque awakening had made him restless again. Stupid taxi and stupid motorbike. Yoongi hoped that a good breakfast and a hot shower would make him sleepy again. Maybe there were leftovers in the fridge, he thought while walking inside the much colder and darker building hall. Or he could scrape out something from their forgotten pantry. The quick oatmeal Seokjin had bought months ago was still lingering around. It was not super tasty but possibly better than nothing.

It was when he stepped in the elevator that he started feeling strange. There was a tall guy already standing there. He was wearing a black hoodie and his head was bent so low Yoongi couldn’t see his face. When Yoongi pushed the button of his floor, he remained motionless. Only one number was shining on the display.

The doors closed in silence.

Yoongi’s insides were twisting with uneasiness, his heart beating faster. He suddenly recalled all the stories of sasaeng fans creeping inside bands’ dorms or all the concerns Hobeom hyung had in leaving him alone.  Even if his mind kept repeating the same words - you are tired, he’s just a normal guy, you’re being paranoid - there was a part inside him screaming with all its voice.

And then, abruptly and with horror, he saw something big and shiny in one of the guy’s hand. 

He started to panic. 

He took his phone and called a number. He didn’t take his eyes off from the man, not even a second. On the other side of the line, no one was answering. Yoongi did the only thing he could think of.

“Jimin-ah, open the door. I’m on the elevator,” he said, pretending his members were all there waiting for him.  He continued blabbering until, with a blink, they arrived at his floor.  

The guy followed him out.

Yoongi walked fast, as quickly as he could without running. At the apartment door, he knocked furiously, while with the other hand he started to digit the code number on the keyboard. Out of the corner of his eye, the man was facing him, walking slowly from down the hall. A long, curved knife clasped on his side.

Yoongi stopped breathing. He frantically punched in the door code and got himself in. As he was slamming the door close, a glimpse of the man: his dagger, few inches away, and deep, black eyes.

He nearly collapsed right away. Leaning heavily on the doorframe and with shaking hands, he managed to lock the door. Then, as all forces abandoned him, he let his body slide down to the floor.

It was then that two things happened. He noticed Jimin, gawking stunned at him from the living room, hair still ruffled from the bed. At the same time, on the other side of the thin door, a sinister sound of something repeatedly, furiously hitting the door.

Once.

Twice.    

Thrice.

And then, quiet. An infinite interval passed before either of them moved. Yoongi released his breath; headlight, hands chilling cold. 

“Jimin, call the police.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin)!  
> Please enjoy!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)

**K-Pop BTS’ Members Assaulted By Knife-Wielding Stalker**

Rapper Suga, member of K-Pop band BTS, was reported as the victim of an attempted stalker attack. Initial investigations are being held…

_Read More_

 

-

 

**BTS’ Suga Nearly Stabbed By Crazy Sasaeng**

 There have been many accounts of criminal behavior by compulsive, disturbed fans in the history of K-Pop, but what happened to the internationally famous boyband group BTS seems to surpass all previous accidents. As stated by the Seoul Police Department this morning…

  _Read More_

 

-

 

**Chaos in BTS’ Dorm!**

 Unconfirmed rumors about an unknown, male stalker are making netizens worrying all over the world. Nothing is confirmed yet, but fans are united in expressing their concern and in hoping BTS are safe and sound. While we still wait for some more news, let’s check on…

_Read More_

-

 

 

In less than half an hour the dorm was full of policemen and managers. Even Bang PD had paid a short visit, trying to reassure and at the same time giving short, mumbled orders to everyone. The members were still in their pajamas, with unpaired socks and tied hair, sitting mutely together.

Yoongi was the only at the table, the same full glass in front of him. Seijin hyung had given him that water when he had forced his throat to speak. His story had been so fucking crazy no one would have believed him if not for Jimin, who had seen half of it, or if there hadn’t been deep carved cuts on the entrance door.

Then, the investigators had checked the footage of the building security system.

“It appears like he had followed a drunken resident and got himself in. He had been waiting in that elevator since early morning, even if it’s not clear if it was specifically for Min-shi.” The tall policeman glanced at him. “Min-shi had been the first to encounter him.”

Namjoon’s hand on his shoulder squeezed hard.

Yoongi stopped listening after that.

He was brought back to reality by a gentle nudge on his side. The police officers had left and only a couple of managers had remained. Yoongi hadn’t wanted to hear, but he imagined many arrangements were made. The situation was under control. His body felt suddenly so heavy, slouched on that hard chair, it was difficult to keep his head up. He hadn’t slept in god knows how many hours and the adrenaline had worn off long ago. 

“Yoongi,” Seokjin appeared at his side. His face, with the unusual mix of a furrowed brow and a tender smile, seemed like a Picasso. “Why don’t you go to rest a bit?”

Yoongi glanced at the others. They all looked like they needed another eight hours of sleep. Nonetheless, he had no determination or desire to argue. He let Seokjin grasp his arm and go with him to their bedroom. It was a bit embarrassing, to be honest. He felt like an invalid or like a child, but he would have walked into a wall if Jin had not helped. His brain was turning off on its own. He didn’t even try to change his clothes and fell on the bed with a sigh. Then, all was black.  

 

**

He woke up at night feeling like shit. His body was all messed up. He was hungry, he had a bit of a headache and the blanket was too heavy and hot on his body. He immediately kicked it away. Then, he pondered for a second. He knew it was going to be a bad idea to check the news, but he couldn’t stop himself anyway. He grabbed his phone and the screen blinded him with its light. He had missed calls and many messages but he momentarily ignored them. When he opened Naver, his heart sank. His name was everywhere. No wonder his mom and brother had tried to call many times. With a rapid scroll, Yoongi could see some more friends, a couple of trainers and even a high school classmate all inquiring about him.

He would call home after eating, he concluded throwing the cellular away. And answer everyone else as soon as he felt like it.

He slowly got up and considered taking a shower, in the end opting for a less challenging change of clothes. When he got out of the room he was greeted by Hoseok’s loud laughter. The kitchen was dark and empty but the television was thundering in the living room. Shielding his eyes with a hand from the flashing light, Yoongi stumbled in BTS members eating pizza and watching Kung Fu Panda.

Well, it looked like everything was fine here. Taehyung was the first to spot him.

“Hyung! You’re awake!”

All heads turned onto him.

“Not really,” he replied with a wry smile.

He sat on the floor near Namjoon, leaning back on the couch against Hoseok’s bony legs. The kids went back to watch the movie, as nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You arrived just in time! We are doing a marathon,” J-Hope smiled down at him.

Yoongi stretched out to grab a slice of pizza from the cardboard on the floor.

 “Kung Fu Panda?” he guessed, taking a glance at the animals on the wide screen.

“And Zootopia, Sing, Finding Nemo…,” Hoseok numbered on his fingers. His legs, behind Yoongi’s back, were fretfully hopping up and down. Yoongi looked around.

Taehyung and Jungkook were sitting on the sofa, whispering animatedly to each other. Seokjin was passing a kimchi-chicken pizza around. Namjoon was lying on his belly in front of the television, and was either ignoring the commotion or just really concentrating on the movie. And Jimin... well, Jimin looked exactly as he had looked so many hours before. Pale, withdrawn.

Yoongi observed him, starting to feel odd at the chest.

“What did you guys do today?” he then turned and asked Hoseok. The kid answered him with a nervous laugh.  

“We ate and chatted. And then started watching movies…”

“Where is Hobeom? The other managers?”

Hoseok grimaced.

“Hobeom and Seijin hyung-nim are resting in the spare room. The others left hours ago.”

Yoongi only nodded in reply. Hobeom hyung had taken all the blame for the accident. Band PD had scolded him in the middle of the living room, Hobeom bowing all the way down until Yoongi had said the truth. It had been his idea to go home on his own, he had convinced the reticent man to trust him and leave. Bang Si-hyuk had strangely backed off after that and had answered him with only a half-scowl.

“What about Jimin?” he murmured. Hoseok checked on his left, then tilted his head back towards him.

“He’s upset,” he whispered back. “But won’t tell us anything. He didn’t talk much all day.”    

Yoongi nodded again and went back to his pizza.

 

**

 By almost unanimous consent, it was decided that that night they would have a giant sleepover in the living room. Yoongi hadn’t been particularly happy about the arrangement but still had found himself laying down on an old futon. He was the last one of the long line of aligned bodies, with an unsettled Taehyung on his side. He was answering texts on his phone when Taehyung himself interrupted the chitchat. 

“Are we ever going to talk about this?”

 From the other side of the futon arrangement, Namjoon bolted upright.

“I mean, we know what happened this morning,” Taehyung continued. “But only because it was difficult to ignore all the policemen.”

“We are not kids,”  Jungkook added.

“You’re still my baby Kookie!”

“Hobi hyung, please,” Jungkook groaned, although there was no sign of annoyance on his face.

“Whatever it is, we should deal with it together,” Taehyung interrupted again. Namjoon, who until that moment had been looking at them with a pensive expression, let out a sigh.

“Bang Si-hyuk thought it would be better not to inform you,” he then looked at Yoongi, who sat up and just shrugged. Namjoon pressed his lips together.

“But I agree with you,” he conceded after a moment. “I guess you all remember when Suga hyung fell in the airport and broke his finger?”

He sure did, Yoongi thought as he massaged the injured digit. The cast had been long removed, but sometimes he swore it still hurt a bit.

“Well, it was because someone grabbed him and pushed him down. There are… proofs.”

The reaction was immediate. They all turned facing Yoongi with mixed expressions of shock, anger, and concern. 

“What!”

“Why?”

Then Jimin’s voice spoke clear between the others.

“Which proofs?” he asked, a grim air around him.

“Suga had been receiving letters,” Namjoon said, paused and took a long breath. “There have been pictures. They’re usually from live events, concerts, shows… the company hired new security but… well, it wasn’t enough. The policemen believe it’s the same people behind the letters and this morning.”

That was new. Yoongi couldn’t decide if he was annoyed that no one bothered to inform him. Apparently, he wasn’t alone, because another voice quickly raised.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Bang didn’t want to worry you,” Namjoon was struggling to find a better answer.

“But you and Yoongi hyung knew! And you were upset! We could see it!” Jungkook protested.

“My job is to handle this kind of issues, I had to know. And…”

“And I was there,” Yoongi deadpanned, interrupting their leader in mid-sentence. “Not exactly the best show. 100% wouldn’t recommend.”

An awkward silence ensued. Then, “Why are you joking?” 

Jimin, lips pressed together, was glaring at him. Seokijin stretched out one of his hands, gently clutching at his pajamas. 

“Don’t get mad, Jimin-ah,” he soothed. “He was just kidding.” 

But the man was not listening. He brushed off Jin’s arm and stood up. 

“You should have come home with us. Or with Hobeom hyung!” he exclaimed, his glare burning holes in Yoongi’s skull.  “You only think of your music!” 

“Park Jimin!” 

Namjoon’s warning bark covered Seokjin and Hoseok objecting voices, but Jimin was deaf to everything. With a body so tense it was almost trembling, he stared down at Yoongi.

“Jimin, sit back down,” Jin pulled him with force by the sleeve but was ignored again. 

 Whatever emotion was possessing the man, it was too strong to be suppressed. With his heart beating like crazy, Yoongi returned the glare and stayed quiet. He didn’t have to wait for long. Jimin sharply bowed his head and let go a painful, shaking breath. 

“You only think of yourself,” he spat and with that, turned around and left.

 

** 

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, an uneasy silence filled the air. Yoongi was speechless, his mind blank. A hand tentatively touched his shoulder.  

“Hyung, he doesn’t mean it,” Taehyung sounded miserable. 

Hoseok crawled next to him.

“He’s just upset.” 

Yoongi sighed. 

“I know.”  

“I will talk with him,” Jin stood up with a grim expression. “He had been bottling this up all day. It was only a matter of time.” 

Yoongi shook his head. “I will go.”

“Are you sure?” Both Namjoon and Seokjin looked dubiously at him.

“Yes,” he said as he leaned on the floor to lift himself. He felt tired to the bones like he hadn’t slept at all day. “I will call you if we need you,” he said patting Jin hyung’s arm as he passed by and left his muted members behind.

It was easy to find Jimin. The apartment was not that big to begin with and two sleeping managers already occupied one room. It took no genius to guess where the kid would hide, and there he was, hugging his knees at the foot of the maknae’s bed. Yoongi closed the door and walked the few steps separating them. He kneeled beside Jimin, careful in his movements. In the dark, he could barely see Jimin’s marble profile but he was facing down, face half hidden by his hair. It smelled like Taehyung’s green apples shampoo.

They stayed still for a long time, Yoongi slowly letting his muscles relax by leaning on the wooden bedside. His head was tilted back on the bed and he was gazing at an SNSD's poster when the curled up body next to him moved.

“You should have told us,” Jimin turned around and finally spoke. His eyes, puffy and red, were looking up somewhere near the ceiling fan. His face was white and lost. 

“I thought it was just a fight,” A murmur. “If you had told me I would have…”

 A shaky breath.

“I should have answered the phone when you called me. I should have immediately opened that door, too.” Jimin continued, wiping at his face with open palms.

“Jiminnie…”  Yoongi shifted closer and placed a hand on the kid’s nape. The skin felt so warm under his fingers. 

“Jiminnie, it wasn’t your fault.”

“You could have died!”

“But I’m fine,” Yoongi reassured. He tightened the grip on Jimin’s neck. “We are fine.”

That seemed to do the trick. Jimin slowly calmed down and dried his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. He sniffed hard once again and then turned to face his hyung in the eyes. His expression as determined as ever.

“Min Yoongi, promise me one thing,” he said, eyes fierce and luminous. “You will never keep secrets from me again.”

“I promise,” Yoongi immediately replied, willing his heart to slow down.

 

**

 There was a huge change in their daily routines. They were never alone, not even in the dorm. Yoongi, obviously, was the special one of the situation. Always squeezed in the middle of the group, barely on his own even in the bathroom, he was followed and pampered by members, staff and managers alike. In the beginning, he didn’t mind the attention, but it was slowly turning claustrophobic. It wouldn’t have bothered him that much if he could have had some time to work on his music. Sadly, though, it all went down to sleep, eat, dance, sing and repeat. Contact with fans and press have been sporadic and mostly through the company official channels. He knew information had been scarce and that gossip had flourished instead, so it was not a surprise when he was summoned by Bang Si-hyuk himself.

“We decided to make you take part to My Idol Show,” the man told Yoongi as soon as he entered the studio. “ARMY likes it and we need to show them you’re fine.” 

Yoongi hesitantly sat on the couch.

“You’ll go with J-Hope and V. You need to be as cheerful as possible,” Bang Si-hyuk instructed, handing him the scripts. 

The morning when they had to film the TV show, Jimin stopped Yoongi in the hallway and started fussing over him. Checking his clothes, combing his hair on one side and then, in an afterthought, back into the style it initially was. 

"Text me when you finish." 

"Sure." 

"Tell me how it goes. I'll be practicing anyway."

"Ooo-kay," Yoongi slowly answered, eyeing the way the younger man was grooming him.

"My god, Jimin. He is not going to war," Jungkook rolled his eyes from the door of his room.   

"Let them be," Namjoon, who was passing by, distractedly admonished.

Yoongi turned back to look at Jimin, ignoring everyone else.

"I have to go," he said, awkward as hell. "I'll see you tonight,” he added in a murmur before someone started pushing him from behind.

"Enough, enough," Hoseok cheerfully exclaimed. "We're late!"

Yoongi put on his sneakers, waved a hand goodbye and closed the door behind.

 

**

My Idol Show was a total disaster.

Yoongi was tired and moody, the MC cheerful and talkative. Yoongi hated her the minute she opened her mouth.

“Oh, another question for you guys! What would you bring to a deserted island?” She clapped her hands in bright enthusiasm. She then pointed to J-Hope.

“A lighter! Or a knife!” Hoseok replied, just as cheerfully.

 “Good choices! And you, V?”

“My phone?”

 “That’s not bad, too!” She then turned to regard Yoongi, lips stretched in a big smile. “What about Suga? What would you bring?”

“A boat,” he deadpanned, making everyone laugh.

“That would probably be the best idea,” the MC chuckled an instant, for then sobering up quite quickly. What a sudden change.

“Suga,” she started again, attitude completely different. “We heard many things concerning you recently.”

Yoongi nodded, prompting the host to continue.

"We heard that there was some kind of commotion at BTS's dorm. Would you like to reassure your fans that nothing serious happened?" 

That question was scripted like everything else, so Yoongi wasn’t sure why he suddenly got even more irritated. He didn’t like what Bang PD wanted him to say, he didn’t like being stripped of his emotions. He hated to downplay the struggle BTS was going through too. Any other time he would have gulped it all down and pretended to smile. What made him forget all the words in the piece of paper in his pocket and made him see red, though, was the MC's little smile. His mouth worked faster than his brain, and from the moment he started to speak Yoongi knew fucked it.

“When a person follows you and try to enter your house with a knife it’s at best stalking, if not attempted murder,” he pointed out. Behind the MC, Hoseok and Taehyung made identical horrified faces. “We are fine, though,” he felt the need to specify, “The Police is dealing with it, security has increased.” 

And then, at the huge eyes of the MC, he added: “Big Hit is taking good care of us.”

 

** 

Bang PD was not happy with him. 

“Do you think we are having fun here?” He wasn’t shouting but he never needed to. “We work hard every day to keep you safe and happy.”

Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok were sitting on the black leather couch in the main studio, heads bent low. Namjoon, who had reached them as soon as they arrived, was standing near the door. No doubts the managers had called him on the way back. Hands clasped behind and expression close, he had avoided looking at them since he had appeared.

“I asked you a simple thing, Min Yoongi. Why didn’t you do it?”

Yoongi was looking straight at the wall but could feel cutting eyes piercing through him. “I thought it was unfair.”

“Explain,” Bang PD had the uncommon skill to give orders with only a mild tone of his voice.

“I didn’t want to lie.” 

The older man released a long, pained breath. 

“Didn’t it passed through your mind that maybe the investigators suggested us the best way to handle this?”

Yoongi stopped himself from frowning. Bang Si-hyuk let out another sigh, leaning behind on the chair.

“What should I do with you, hmm…?” he murmured, pensive.

“Sir,” Namjoon spoke up. “Please consider how stressful it has been for…” 

“I know that,” the man interrupted him, not unkindly. “I’m not going to punish him. He’s already without any freedom as it is. But Suga…”

Yoongi raised his eyes and met the man’s gaze. Bang PD was observing him.

“You’re an idol and you have to behave accordingly. You need to show a good façade, always.”

Yoongi didn’t totally agree but thought best and stayed silent.

“You should reflect on what you did today, and especially on why. You said it was because you didn’t want to lie, didn’t you?”

He nodded, once.

“Well, make sure you have your reasons straighten out next time I see you. We are lucky the show wasn’t live and that they agreed on cutting your part entirely .”

“Yes, sir.”

Bang grunted. 

“You can go now. Namjoon, stay behind.”

They left quickly and silently, sparing a side look to Namjoon who looked less than thrilled to speak with their boss. As soon as they left the office, Taehyung walked away without one word and Hoseok glanced uncertainly at him.

“Please, don’t do that again, hyung.” He muttered. Then, with a pat on his shoulder and an exhale, he said: “Let’s go to the practice room.”

  

**

Thank god it was already late when their small group started practice. Jimin was still working on his choreography in another room, Namjoon was nowhere to be seen. Jungkook and Seokjin were shooting another show. So it was only the three of them lazily reviewing a couple of dances they were preparing for their anniversary concerts in June. They were two awkward, silent hours and Yoongi’s mood sank fast like the Titanic. It had been weeks since he had felt somewhere near happy, but he was soon reaching a new level of misery.

He felt only slightly relieved when Hobeom came and told them to pack their stuff.

“Hyung! Why didn’t you text me when you finished the talk show?” Jimin complained when he sat up in the car next to him.

“I forgot.” 

There hadn’t been time to think of anything after the show, aside from how Bang was going to make him regret his own short-temper. 

“But you promised…” 

Hoseok turned from the seat in front of them with a sweet smile.

“We were quite busy, Chichim. Sorry!”

“Busy doing what?”

“Busy being scolded,” another voice joined the conversation. It instantaneously dampened the atmosphere in the car.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked Taehyung, but the latter didn’t answer. He then turned on to Yoongi, mouth already open, when Namjoon arrived and sat in the front of the car.

“Let’s go home,” he told the manager and sensitive as usual, he twisted his body to inspect the other passengers. “What’s going on in here?”

“Nothing!” Hoseok laughed.

Namjoon looked at them once more, unconvinced, but turned back again to check his phone. Jimin waited for the leader to be distracted to bend down over him and murmur:

“Tell me in the dorm.”

 

**

“They just don’t know how to deal with you,” Jimin was saying.

It was after dinner and the two of them were sitting in the living room, lights half off. On the little coffee table, chips and beers laid splattered around. They had ransacked their stocks for alcohol, but the only things they could find was old Asahi. It was tepid too, just to make the party sadder.

“You’re not making it easier, either,” he continued. “Talking with you it’s like handling a bomb sometimes.”

Yoongi snorted.

“I’ve always been like this.” 

“True,” Jimin conceded. “Lately it’s just worse.”

They stayed in silence for a while, Yoongi meditatively sipping his cheap beer and Jimin staring in front of him.    

“You should rely on us more,” the younger kid said, after a while. 

“What?” Yoongi turned at him, startled. He had been munching on Kimchi Spiced Doritos and his fingertips were starting to turn red.

“I mean, us. Not just the members, but the company too. Maybe you think they want to control you,” he continued, undaunted. “but they want to help.” 

Yoongi took his hot beer and sipped it, fixing his eyes on a random picture hanging above the TV. 

“Perhaps.”

Later that night he couldn’t sleep, mind circling back to that conversation. Rely on them more, Jimin had said. Show a good façade, Bang Si-hyuk had told him. How was he supposed to do both? Being perfect and ask for help. Weren’t the two things incompatible? Besides, Yoongi was an idol but far from being perfect. He wore the title as he wore everything else, clothes that he to put on to look presentable, a mask that would make him able to write and produce music.

His dream came true together with heavy obligations: the constant pretending, the careful attention when in public, the little smile even when he was feeling empty and miserable inside. What would happen if he really asked for help, if he relied on others? It wasn’t possible, Yoongi knew. It only needed a small nudge and Yoongi was afraid he would lose all the control he had mastered through his life, his idol mask crumbling at his feet. 

And he would never let it happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin) !

  
 

 **[Shocking! BTS Suga in the Elevator with** _**Sasaeng** _ **Fan]**

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Comments – 5612

Top Comments ˅

**HEEYYOU** _35 minutes ago_

How did you get this footage? You should delete it. It’s not respectful to BTS and their families.

 _View all 16 replies_  ˅

 

 **MyMamaisAPenguin**   _2 hours ago_

Holy Sh**********!!!!

**PardonMe90**   _1 hour ago_

It breaks my heart to watch. No one should go through something like this.

 _View all 23 replies_  ˅

 

 **MinYoooooongiiii**   _4 hours ago_

F*ck. You can see the moment he noticed the knife!

**ArmyArmyArmy**   _3 hours ago_

0:28

_View all 101 replies_  ˅

 

 **I-LOVE-HOSEOK**    _5 minutes ago_

What happened??????? Can someone explain? Who is that guy?????????

 

 

**

“I think you should upload a selfie on Twitter. For ARMY. A selfie with me.”

“We did it yesterday,” Yoongi distractedly replied.

They were sprawled on his bed, one at the opposite side of the other. Their legs and ankles weirdly overlapped in the middle, and while Yoongi was trying to be less self-conscious about it, Jimin didn’t seem to mind at all.

“But yesterday was another day,” the man grinned like a cat from all the pillows he was sinking in. “Let’s do it one now.”

Yoongi didn’t even try to complain. Without looking, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and offered it to the other man.

“Use mine. It’s better. And no sparkling filter.”

“You secretly like selfies, don’t you?” Jimin teased. He extricated himself and laid down side by side to Yoongi, pressing the elbow in his ribs. “Ok, let’s try with a silly one!”

Yoongi took his eyes away from the monitor and looked up at the phone. He made a duck face, while Jimin stuck his tongue out. The result was not up to their expectations, so they took other three selfies before both of them were satisfied.

“Ok, I’m going to upload this. No, don’t look at the description! It’s a surprise!” The kid moved and turned his body away to hide the phone.

“I’m worried,” Yoongi deadpanned, not worried at all.

Jimin, the innocent, still replied:

“Don’t,  _hyung_ _._ I have your best interests at heart!”

Something that Yoongi doubted really much.

“Oh,” Jimin said after a couple of minutes. He twisted back, laying again half on top of Yoongi. “You received a message.”

He placed the phone directly on his nose. It was so close the words were blurred and Yoongi had to move the hand from his face to see. It wasn’t that important anyway, he discovered. The message just read  _Knock knock_ , and it was from an unknown number.

“It’s my brother,” Yoongi promptly dismissed it, going back to his computer. “He always sends me these stupid jokes. This time he probably just used his number from work.”

“His sense of humor must be weirder than yours,” Jimin murmured, cradling the phone in his hands. He already tweeted the picture, so Yoongi wondered what he was still doing scrolling up and down so happily. In a moment of mild panic, he hoped his pictures or chronology hid nothing too embarrassing.

“ _Hyung_.”

He grunted in answer.

“Hyuuuung,” the long whine.

“What?” Yoongi snapped his head up. He met the other man’s brilliant smile.

“Let’s order some food, I’m hungry.”

Yoongi dismissed him and went back to stare at the monitor.  

“We ate dinner two hours ago,” he answered, still nice enough.

“It didn’t give me any satisfaction…” Jimin complained again, warm body curled around him. He battled his eyelashes at Yoongi in that way he knew Yoongi couldn’t resist. So he had no other choice.  

With a small sigh, Yoongi gave up on the song. He couldn’t concentrate anyway and his mind wasn’t sharp enough to compose something passable. He closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand. Apparently, it was what Jimin had waited for all along because the smile he sent his way was big and happy.

“We could put on a movie in the living room, order Domino’s.” Lately, pizza had been their favorite choice on night snack, no one knew why.

“Just not a romantic sappy thing,” Yoongi conceded. 

 When they walked in the living room, only Jungkook was around. He was playing Candy Crush, taking up the entire sofa, and with the phone display as his only light. He looked quite pitiful but quickly brightened up at the mention of pizza. It was a struggle to choose the movie, though. They had been spending too much time bottled in the dorm watching television.

In the end, they opted for Weekly Idol.  

“It’s funnier when you watch it from here and you’re not the butt of jokes,” Jungkook commented as one of Winner’s guys was picked on by Doni and Coni.

“I think it was fun!”

“Of course, you were their favorite.”

His phone vibrated on his lap and Yoongi briefly turned away from the argument, leaving the voices of the two kids in the background.

_Knock, knock._

His brother was particularly persistent. He threw the phone on a pillow and as soon as it was out of his reach, the screen lightened up again. Yoongi kicked the pillow and forgot about it.

 

**

The next day was a busy but quite normal day of activities. Mindful of the investigators' advice, the company had decided to postpone the release of their new album for the beginning of September, leaving them with some months to work on it. Without any song to prepare yet, it practically meant dedicating their attention to appearances in television and radio shows. In the meanwhile, they were working on a couple of special exclusive concerts, one in Seoul and one in Tokyo, for their debut anniversary in June. They were at a hectic pace, but not quite as busy as they would have been during a full album promotion circle.    

“We should start thinking about who’s sharing the tent with whom,” Seokjin was musing from the back of the van. They were driving on the highway to reach the outdoor setting of their new TV program. For this episode they were supposed to work with some local farmers, mostly feeding animals or watering plants. 

They have just been informed that in ten days they would have to travel south for another episode in the middle of nature and their spirits were high, excited that they would escape the madness of the city and maybe camp in the woods somewhere all alone by themselves.

“They will probably prepare a game to decide,” Jimin said.

“I can’t sleep with Namjoon, he snores too much,” Seokjin mumbled to himself.

“You’ll get used to it,” came the sudden voice of the  _maknae_.

Yoongi was looking for a sarcastic reply to add to the conversation when his phone vibrated for two, three times in his pocket. It was the  _knock, knock_  again. With a pained sigh, he took advantage of the members' distraction and quickly dialed his older brother’s number.

“Hey,” he greeted as soon as the other picked up the call. “Stop sending me your weird jokes.”

“What weird jokes?”

“Knock, knock, who’s there? Those shitty ones,” Yoongi answered, turning to face the window.

From the other side of the line, a second of perplexed silence.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You’re not using your company phone to text me?”

“Of course not, why would I?” his brother asked. “I would use mine. And I thought you registered my work number years ago, anyway.”

No, Yoongi never did. A bit because he was lazy, a bit because he always forgot.

“Right. Well, never mind then.” It could still be someone with the wrong number, right?

“How are things there?” he accordingly changed the subject.

“Busy as usual,” his older brother breathed on the speaker. “Nothing new. How about there? With the crazy asshole?”

“Kind of quiet here too,” he replied, shooting a glance at his members. Half of them had just started singing along with Got7’s last single. “I guess they’re still looking for him.”

“The facial description didn’t work after all.”

“No.”

Yoongi had given the policemen a somewhat passable but very generic portrayal of the man’s face, that horrible morning. It had been useless because one, at that time he hadn’t really focused on the face but on the knife, thank you very much; and two, all he remembered was quite generic. Black hair, white face, small eyes, not too tall. Half of Korea fit that shitty description. 

“Mhmm.” From the other side of the line, his brother sent him a distracted acknowledgment. It was early morning, not even eight yet, but it sounded like he was already busy in the office. “Call mom. She worries. Yesterday I caught her searching your name on Naver.” 

“Funny, she forbade me to do it.”

“She’s protecting her baby,” the older man cooed, slightly ironic. “Anyway, call her.”

“I will,” Yoongi replied. “Look, I have to go.”

“Sure, baby bro,” he was cheerfully waved off before the call ended.

  

**

It was during the lunch break that Yoongi could finally take some rest and check his phone again. The morning had gone by quickly and it had been quite a pleasant experience with the farm owners guiding them around and teaching them basic agricultural tips.

The atmosphere was so strangely relaxed that the most sociable of them were now chatting up their hosts, cordi- _noonas_ _,_ managers and bodyguards alike. Yoongi didn’t feel like socializing and just walked around in the farm courtyard, under a tepid sun, and the gentle breeze caressing his face. He felt almost serene. This time, when the phone lighted up with a new  _Knock Knock_  message, he didn’t wait before answering but didn’t think too much of it, too.

 _Who’s this?_  he answered.

He stared at the screen for a moment, but when he received nothing back, he just shrugged and put the phone in his coat. He walked back to the group and sat between Seokjin and Namjoon on a bench. They were absently chomping on some fruits, passing the bag from one to the other, and he stole an apple slice on the way.

“I’m getting old,” Seokjin randomly announced. They were all staring at Hoseok and Jimin energetically trying to teach tricks to the farmers’ dog. Their attempts were successful only when some kind of food was involved.

“I don’t remember a time I had all that energy,” Yoongi joked, but no too much.  

“You were born in saving-mode,” Namjoon teased.

“You will envy me in sixty years when I’ll still be going and you will have no energy left.”

Seokjin and Namjoon chuckled and at that sound Jimin suddenly looked over, said something to Hoseok and jogged to their bench.

“Mocha is the best,” he exclaimed as soon as he arrived. He was smiling from ear to ear. “We should take a dog for the dorm.”

 Jin scoffed.

 “And who’s going to clean after it?”

 “We can cooperate.”

 Jin looked skeptic. On the other side, BTS’s leader cleverly preferred to keep his mouth shut and stuffed with fruits.

“Come on!” Jimin pleaded. He then turned to Yoongi. “I thought you liked dogs _,_ _hyung_.”

Jimin had bright red cheeks and a brilliant, sweet smile. Yoongi’s heart quickened at the view and still managed to grumble an:

“I do.” 

“Gimme one!”

“Maybe for Christmas,” he conceded, after some consideration.

“But it’s just April…”

“I know,” he answered with a slow grin.

Jimin’s pink mouth was already open to protest, but then one of the coordi- _noonas_  called them from the main door.

“Hey, quick inside,” she admonished with a deep frown on her face. Yoongi had only seen her a couple of times before but wow,  _man_. Rude much.

He exchanged a raised eyebrow with Namjoon but obediently stood up and popped his spine with loud, disturbing cracks. He then walked to Jimin and threw an arm around his shoulders, slowly leading him away from the others and in the direction of the house.

“We need time to convince Seokjin.”

 

**

That night, when they jumped back in the car, there was more silence and less chatter. Yoongi was scrolling down #army on Twitter, careful on shielding the perky screen in the otherwise dark car. Then, out of nowhere, the unknown number appeared again. They were calling him.

Yoongi started to have a bad feeling about it. He closed the call without thinking twice. He received a message an instant later.

_Knock knock._

He gritted his teeth. Ok, he was done with it. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t blocked the number before but time had surely come. He had no patience for people trying to fuck with him. His finger was ready to delete and block the number forever, but then his heart skipped a beat. 

_Open the door, Min Yoongi._

He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was impossible. He stared at his phone and at the second message he received in a span of one minute. Even if he knew the best reply would be to ignore first and block the number later, he couldn’t resist. Before he could make up his mind, he answered:

_Who’s this?_

He held his breath. He didn’t have to wait for long.

_Open the door, Min Yoongi._

Again.

Yoongi fought the urge to throw the phone out of the window. With trembling fingers, he ended up putting it away in his bag. He had to give priority to his shuddering breath. He didn’t want to wake up Hoseok on his side, he didn’t want to cause another scene. He curled his hands on the lap, trying to collect himself. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out. 

It was after a while and after some attempts on thinking rationally that he realized it might have just been a random asshole who had seen the news. They had picked the words that could have scared him most, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. No. How they got his phone number, that was an interesting question but it didn’t deserve a full panic mode.

It had been a good day and Yoongi was determined on ending it on the same note, psychos and pranksters be damned. He shouldn’t let them ruin his life. Even if changing his number was annoying, he just had to ask his manager to buy a new card for him.

With these new thoughts in his mind, his tired body started to relax and before he knew, he fell asleep.

 

Someone lightly shook his knee.

“ _Hyung_ … Suga  _hyung_.”

Yoongi slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for his head to clear. In front of him, Namjoon had twisted his body to reach out from the front seat. He was looking at him expectantly, with one warm hand on his leg.

“Hey,” Yoongi said, his voice deeper from sleep. He blinked a couple of times.

“We've almost arrived.”

Yoongi nodded and the leader promptly leaned over with an arm to wake Hoseok. All around him, members started to stir in their seats and the manager took it as a clue to turn on the lights inside the car. They were all blinded and complaining for a couple of seconds before their building appeared in front of their eyes.

They ordered take out for a late dinner, a strange mix of fried chicken and Indian spicy food. They shared with their managers, boxes of steaming hot dishes and drinks scattered on the living room coffee table in something that resembled a party. Not surprisingly, alcohol had a guest appearance too, even if it was the cheap and strong soju Seijin had got from an old store in the neighborhood. It tasted disgusting and it burned his throat, but it made Yoongi’s belly hot and full and his limbs light, so he indulged in it more than he usually would. He had a strong resistance anyway, not like Taehyung or Jungkook who were giggling and rolling on their backs on the floor. He had no desire to touch or use his phone, but he was considering the idea just to sneak a picture of the wasted  _maknae_  line. In the end, he chose to nurse a glass of his precious Taiwanese whiskey. They would all regret it tomorrow morning, even if their schedules were somewhat manageable for a Saturday, but who gave a fuck.

“Suga  _hyung_ _,_ ” Jimin heavily sat next to him on the sofa. “I say we take another selfie.”

Yoongi looked at him doubtfully. His normally bright pink cheeks were of a deep crimson red. With glossy eyes and a silly smile, the younger man looked halfway drunk.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jimin replied and then seeing his prolonged stare, he added, “I know my face is red but I’m just hot, I swear!”

Yoongi wasn’t convinced but shrugged anyway. At the movement, his head dangerously tilted on a side. Maybe he had drunk more than he thought.

“One selfie,” he agreed and Jimin beamed in response.

“Can I use your phone?”

“It’s in the room. In my bag.”

“Why is it there?” Jimin inquired, half-jokingly. “I thought it was your best friend.”

Yoongi huffed, part in annoyance, part in frustration. He cast his eyes down, gazing absent-mindedly at the glass in his hands.

“My MacBook Pro is my best friend,” he tried to joke but fooled no one.

“What happened?” This time Jimin’s voice sounded hesitant in his ears. The man had moved on the sofa, tense body tilting towards him.

Yoongi considered for one second if he wanted to tell him or not. Then he remembered a promise, made in a dark quiet room. Those eyes full of tears, the white skin… He sighed and squared his shoulders. In the end, he said:

“Strange creepy messages. I turned it off. “ 

“From who?”

“Unknown number.”

A moment of silence. Yoongi couldn’t see Jimin’s expression, he was busy staring at his whiskey, but he felt it when a hand landed on his thigh a little while later. The gesture felt unsurprisingly welcome.

“Did you tell someone?”

“Not yet,” he responded and then immediately added: “I was going to.” Because he didn’t want to be scolded for keeping secrets again, ok?

“Of course,” Jimin snorted, seeing straight inside him. “I’ll ask someone to buy you a new card.”

Yoongi raised his head to thank him and quickly regretted it. His vision swam. He had to open and close the eyes a couple of times before he could focus on the flushed face in front of him. When he spoke, his words sounded slurred.

"I can do it.”

Jimin waved a hand to dismiss him. He had a little, private smile on his lips.

“It will take only one minute anyway.” 

No point in contradicting him, his mind advised. As a silent thank you, he raised his glass and took a sip of whiskey. He was thirsty, but the alcohol didn’t actually help.

Jimin gave him a loud pat on the thigh.

“So how are you holding up?” he asked, searching steadily into his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied. It was the truth, at least for that day. “Are you asking now because I’m drunk?”

Jimin let out a quick, surprised laugh. Then he shot him a mischievous smile.

“What if I am?” he said, “You’re usually as approachable as a wall.”  

“I would tell you.” Yoongi frowned.

“Really?” came the sarcastic reply.

“Yes,” he insisted.  _Didn’t I just talk with you right now?_  he wanted to ask. Instead, he blurted out again:

“Really.”

And with one last shot, he finished all the whiskey in the glass.

He forgot everything after that.

 

**

A ray of sunlight woke him the day after. They had forgotten to close the curtains and the room was fully illuminated and bright. It didn’t seem to disturb Seokjin that much though since he was still snoring. For the first time in weeks, Yoongi was the first one to rise and he didn’t like it. He was hungry, thirsty, and there was the beginning of a headache at the back of his head. He would have preferred to sleep it away, but his stomach wouldn’t let him rest in peace.

After ten minutes he gave up. Without bothering to change his pajamas, he walked barefoot in the kitchen. Jimin and Taehyung were already sitting there, quietly concentrated on their breakfasts.

“Good morning,” Taehyung said, while Jimin just nodded, clearly disheveled.

Yoongi raised a hand in acknowledgment and walked straight to the refrigerator. He took a surviving box of Indian curry rice and a bottle of orange juice and sat at the table. He didn’t bother warming up the rice, his hangover ass could handle some spicy cool food, and the first few bites tasted like heaven. He was just that hungry. After some sugar started running through his veins and he felt alive again, he turned to his members with an amused expression. He was hungover, but he still looked better than the two younger kids.

“Feeling ok?” he asked.

Taehyung answered with a pained grunt. Jimin briefly met his eyes, flushed and turned to stare at his bowl.

“I'm fine,” he answered, huskily. After an apparent moment of hesitation, he moved his face in Yoongi’s direction, gazing at some imprecise point behind him. “Manager- _hyung_  give me a new phone card for you.”

“Oh,” Yoongi was taken back for a second. He had forgotten about it. Then, he quickly patted Jimin’s hand on the table. “Thank you,” he answered and observed in awe as Jimin blushed furiously.  

“Why are you changing number?” Taehyung asked.

“It leaked out,” he replied.

Apparently it was enough of an explanation for the younger man, who just nodded with an uneasy expression. They spent a couple of minutes eating like that, in silence, after which Yoongi suddenly remembered something and turned to face Jimin.

“I thought you weren’t drunk last night,” he said. He took one giant bite of rice and then another. “What happened in the end?”

His  _dongsaengs_  looked at him surprised, then blurted out at the same time:

“Nothing!”

“You don’t remember!?”

Jimin was the first one to bounce back.

“Nothing happened. Right?” he repeated slowly, but this time he was staring down at V.

“Yeah. Sure. Nothing at all,” Taehyung was nodding like a bubblehead figure, a frozen terrified smile on thin lips.

It was extremely suspicious. Yoongi had to ask again.

“Really?”

Taehyung kept his mouth shut, so it was Jimin who answered.

“You drank some more soju, and then we dragged you to bed,” he leaned over his now empty bowl and observed him closely, tone dropping. “You really forgot?”

“I drank too much, I guess,” he shrugged and witnessed as the man let out a long sigh.

If Yoongi had been only a bit more curious and less lazy he would have pressed the matter. But after a short consideration, he decided it wasn’t worth it. He probably just forgot one of them breaking a glass or something equally as unimportant.

At that moment a door squeaked open and Namjoon surfaced from his dark cave. He had giant glasses on his nose and he was forcibly scratching at his shoulder when he sat down next to them. He took Taehyung’s glass of water and emptied it down before uttering a single word.

“How can you eat this kind of stuff in the morning?” he asked, poking at the leftovers on the table. There still was some curry and the strong spicy smell was filling the air. “And for dinner, what? Dead rats?”

“The only dead rat here is the one nested in your hair,” Yoongi answered.

Namjoon instinctively brought a hand on his messily tied mob and scowled.

“Someone is in a good mood, I see,” he mumbled darkly. He passed a hand over his face. “We shouldn’t have had partied yesterday.”

“Are you hungover,  _hyung_?” Jimin asked, giving him another glass of water.

“I totally forgot about tonight WISH’s dinner event,” Namjoon answered. He took a little sip. “The managers must have forgotten too if they let us drink so much.”

“Or maybe they wanted to drink too.”

Namjoon let out a sarcastic scoff.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said finishing his water in one last swallow and then he stood up again to check in the fridge.

“Guys, remember that we need to be ready at 5 o’clock. The dinner is at 6, I still don’t know the location,” he said from inside the refrigerator. He took a mango pudding back to the table.

“One year passed by so fast,” Jimin was commenting, leaning back on the chair. “It seems yesterday that WISH had debuted.”

“Are they still having their anniversary concert?”

“Yes, it’s on April 27th.”

WISH was a group of obnoxious teenagers who liked to tease and didn’t respect their elders, but even Yoongi could admit that they had been working very hard. It would have been a pity if for security reasons they couldn’t celebrate.

“How are they going to secure the stadium?”

“They will use metal detectors, I heard.”

“And tonight?”

“Tonight’s event it’s only for a strict number of participants,” Namjoon explained. He had finished his pudding in one bite and was now eyeing the curry. “There will be less than fifty people,” he said, before taking one bowl of rice and digging into it.

 

**

There were more than fifty people. However, the hotel the company had reserved for the night was so big and luxurious no one really noticed. Red carpets, wall-high mirrors, brocade curtains, giant bouquets of white flowers and even ice sculptures. When they had arrived they all had stared in surprise.

“Bang PD wanted it big,” one of them had whispered while being ushered in from a secret entrance in the back.

Not only the floor where they were going to celebrate, but even the hall and entries were void of people, making Yoongi wonder if they had booked all the building or if the security was just that good.

Bowing here and there to greet managers, producers, and some trainees, the seven of them were lead to a full-decorated table in the center of the big lounge. They were in the first row, in front of them only a small but functional stage and a large screen where WISH’s last few videos were playing on repeat.

Yoongi didn’t know if it was for the hushed, subdued atmosphere, for the soft lights and sophisticated adornments or for the participants in elegant dresses, but he felt as he was in a high-class prize ceremony instead of a private party. He took one of the crystal glasses in his hand, just to have something to play with while awkwardly observing around.

He was not the only one peeved by the unexpected atmosphere. His members were strangely quiet too, exchanging only a couple of words and mostly keeping to themselves. They all had expected a less formal and family-like night with their company. It was quite a disappointment, to be honest. It got only worse when an MC he didn’t recognize made his appearance on the little stage, grey lucid suit and red bow tie tight around the neck. Yoongi drew a long breath, sinking a little bit more in his cushioned chair and firmly convinced he would have spent a better night at home sleeping.

“Welcome, welcome everyone! It’s a pleasure tonight to be reunited to celebrate the first year of successful activities of our young group WISH.” The MC gave a short gesture to one table, from where WISH stood up to greet and bow. Bang PD, who was sitting just a couple of seat further away, was looking at them with a proud, little smile.

The MC’s voice faded out. A round of applause, which Yoongi joined briefly, and then all the lights went off. On the screen, a video appeared. It was a collection of WISH’s most recent memories, pictures, concerts, and vlogs, accompanied by a melancholic melody.

Yoongi sagged on his chair.

He liked WISH, he did. He felt a growing respect for them and he secretly believed their leader to be an artistic genius. Still, Yoongi wanted out. It was not even boredom. He was used to this kind of events, where all he had to do was to plaster a fake smile on, bow a lot to everyone, and pretend not to die inside. Half of his appearances in TV-shows were like this. He could be awkward, he could be slightly cruel, something even funny and carefree, but most of it was just a play he had to recite. And tonight he didn’t want to participate in the game. It all felt even faker than usual, a silly parade that only managed to make him claustrophobic and worn-out at the same time.

He wondered how disrespectful would be to leave for a ten minutes bathroom break. Did he care he would look bad? Could people even see in the darkness? All the questions tired him even more. 

He quickly leaned on Jimin at his side.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered, covering his mouth with a hand.

Jimin looked at him with a raised eyebrow but didn’t comment. He only smiled, following him with his eyes while Yoongi swiftly stood up, and tried to create the smallest commotion possible in the dark sea of seats, tables, and people. He easily found an exit and carefully opened the door, letting a thin ray of light in. Just outside in the hall, three imposing men in black suit were standing, certainly from security. After a brief moment of uncertainty, he bowed at them.

“The bathroom?” he asked.   

“On that side,” they pointed to a corridor on the left.     

“Thanks.”

In a quick stride, he turned and disappeared around a corner, following the hallway down to the men restroom. He was the only one there, he noticed. He even had the guts to check and, thank God, he was alone. He exhaled, leaning heavily on the sink. His plan was to do exactly nothing for ten minutes, maybe stare a little bit at the wall or check his hair before going back. He wanted to turn off his brain and let it breathe, for once in a while, in complete silence and solitude.

So, of course, his phone started vibrating.

His brand new card was working, he thought sarcastically while taking it out from the inner pocket of his suit. No doubt it was BTS’s leader asking him to come back, even if he had been hiding for a max of three minutes.

He was convinced it was Namjoon. But then, when he looked, it was not.

Yoongi stared at the screen. He remembered clearly that he had saved all his old contacts in the new card; he was certain he did. All the people who could have called him were registered, weren’t they? His thumb was ready to scroll and answer when the call ended, as suddenly as it had begun. He painfully let go of the breath he was holding.

It had been an unknown number. Again. 

While his rational brain was providing him at least ten reasons why a stranger could have tried to reach him, his more illogical and primitive side was all over the place. He didn’t want to deal with this again, he was fucking tired of not having a single peaceful moment. He had finished his patience long ago and he had no intention of letting the motherfucker shit with him again.

Of course, it was not the lucid, intelligent part of him to be right. When his phone vibrated again, it was in a mix of dark awakening and shock that he read the same message he had received many times before.

_Knock knock._

This time, though, it didn’t stop.

_You shouldn’t have changed your number._

A long moment passed. Yoongi was cradling the phone with both hands, head so low his neck was starting to hurt. His mind was blank. His heart was hurting in the chest.

He was so fucking mad.

In a blitz of fury, Yoongi forced his trembling fingers.

_What do you want?_

He didn’t have to wait, the reply was immediate.

_Open the door, Min Yoongi._

And then, in a breathless beat:

_Open the door or I will open it for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week!  
> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**LittleCrow  --** Follow

Remember when the only thing we had to worry about was if BTS would perform at the BBMAs? It was not that much time ago. It’s incredible to think what they are going through now. We see Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook and Taehyung as our babies, as our idols, but in reality we forget that they are human beings like us, entitled to feel safe, protected and happy. Because of some crazy fan (?), stalker (?) or whoever that man is, our boys now are going through hell. Just check their last few pictures. Do they look happy? Do they look safe squeezed between their bodyguards and the hordes of stupid fans (YES, I’M CALLING THEM STUPID, SUE ME!)? No, they don’t. They look tired, stressed and afraid. Now. Hear me out before you start insulting me in your head (I know you’re doing it!). I’m aware none of those girls wants to hurt their idols. They want to have a picture, a sign or even just a glimpse of them. I’m aware of that. Still, they’re doing something wrong. They are not respecting their space or their needs. We tell the world we love them, and then we selfishly make them look like that, scared and tired. We don’t deserve their love if we treat them like this. We, as ARMY, need to be better than this. We need to protect our boys. We need to give them what they need the most, and sometimes (YES!) that means taking a step back, not meeting them, staying at home. We need to be strong for them, we need to be their strength. I know we can do this, ARMY! Together we can help and protect BTS.

#BTS #Jungkook #Namjoon #Yoongi #Jimin #Jin #Hoseok #Taehyung #protectBTS #ARMY #ARMYxBTS  #...

 

**8733 notes**

 

 

**

He smashed it on the wall.

Standing there, a painful twist in his guts, he stared down at the broken pieces of his phone for what felt like an eternity. It had been a gift, he was thinking. He had liked it. He had everything in that little thing, all his life.

A slamming door startled him out of his stupor. From the adjacent room came the sound of someone giggling and ticking of heels. He had to get out of there or he was on for a scolding, he realized. He had to go out and try to be as natural as possible, as collected as he ever was. He couldn’t freak out in public, he couldn’t even run away, even if that was his first instinct. He had to act professional and later, after the end of the night, he would tell his managers.

He had no other choice.

He kneeled on the cool tile floor. One by one, he picked up all the remaining parts of his deceased phone. His fingers were trembling so hard he had to stop a couple of times to breathe. When he stood up to put it back together - the cover didn’t fit anymore - he shot a glance to his reflection on the mirror. He was a disaster, haunted eyes on a white-sheet face. He was a fucking mess, that was what he was. He just hoped that the hall was as dark as when he had left. It would give him a little more time to get a grip on his emotions.

With a last sigh, he left the bathroom, gripping his phone in one hand. He waved distantly to the security guys and got in the ballroom again.

Of course, the lights were on.

With the WISH kids on stage talking and laughing, it was still quite easy to get to his table without attracting too much unwanted attention. That soon changed once he was seated again. His ass had just touched the chair and Jimin was already leaning over him.

“Where were you?” he whispered.

“In the bathroom.” Yoongi looked forward, staring blankly ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. Jimin took no shit.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

The man raised his eyebrows in an incredulous expression, Yoongi could still see it with the corner of his eyes.  

“I will tell you later, ok?” he hissed back, losing his patience. He didn’t wait for an answer or glimpsed back. He was certain that Jimin was now busy exchanging meaningful glances with the other members. Or maybe he was clenching his hands on the lap like he would do when frustrated. 

Through a four-course meal and a semi-serious show from WISH, Yoongi gulped down food and drinks as if he was eating and swallowing his feelings. It was not pleasant at all. With every bite and every breath he took in, there was a growing sensation at his neck, as someone was slowly choking him from inside. He also completely ignored his members and he didn’t know if something had passed between them or if Jimin had said something, but no one bothered him too. He knew he wasn’t behaving nicely, he knew. However, he couldn’t risk an uncomfortable conversation at that moment, not when he was already struggling to control the muscles on his face and the trembling of his hands.

It was near midnight when the event ended and they finally could leave. Yoongi distractedly hugged and bid goodnight to all of WISH members, some trainees, and their dance choreographers. He kept his distance with all the executive managers, even with Bang PD. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated on the  _sasaeng_  stuff again.

He still got a couple of weird looks and questions about his general well-being but they were easy to dismiss. His members, on the other hand, were definitely not. They were walking down a hallway on their way to the car when Jimin gently took him by an arm and successfully pinned him to his side.

“Spill,” he murmured, as soon as they were out of hearing distance from the others.   

Yoongi wondered briefly if he should feel offended by the complete lack of respect from his  _dongsaeng_.

“Someone texted me again, tonight.” He paused. In the pocket of his coat, he could feel his phone’s cold cover, broken in three pieces. “I don’t know how.”

Jimin stayed quiet, his body a strong, warm presence on his side. He was looking ahead, at the second exit they were approaching. He seemed upset, lips pressed thinly and a pensive frown, a very different sight from his usual cheerful and sunny self.

“We will speak with Namjoon and Bang, directly,” he said, just before they got out in the chilly night.

Yoongi just nodded, privately thinking of how the number could have leaked so fast. He had just received the new card directly from Jimin that morning, after all. Could hackers even do something like this? He didn’t even know.

The younger man released him long enough to let him climb into the car, but as soon as they were both seated he was plastered again back on his side. No one spoke a single word. Seokjin  sat in the front without a fuss, Namjoon on Yoongi’s other side. It was so quiet, Yoongi wondered if they had been eating drugged food. That, or there were more silent exchanges than he had previously thought.

“Guys,” the manager abruptly called from the driver seat. He was looking at his phone, furiously texting someone. “Change of plans, we are not going back to the dorm.”

An instantaneous choir of protests.

“Why?”

“But I’m tiiiiired.”

The man ignored their complaints. He left the phone on his lap, drove them out of the parking lot and into the main street.

“We are going to the company,” he said as his phone was beeping without rest. The manager had an eye out for it, one eye to the road, driving only with the practiced motion of one hand.

“Why?” Namjoon asked, speaking over the other voices.

“They will tell you when we arrive.”

Not convinced, Namjoon sat back with an elbow uncomfortably against Yoongi’s ribs and refrained from saying more. The drive went by surprisingly fast anyway. In less than ten minutes they had their tall company building in sight and started to pack up their stuff in preparation. They didn’t expect that the manager would drive past the main entrance in a flash, leaving it behind without explanations.

“ _Hyung-nim_ …” In the front seat, Seokjin was eyeing the man, a dubious tone in his voice.

When no word was spoken, it was Namjoon who talked again.

“ _Hyung_ _,_ ”  he called. “Where are we going?”

“We are going somewhere else,” the manager brusquely told them, before his phone started ringing and he hastily answered.

He kept quiet for a while, the person on the other side a low, deep murmur in the silent car. A growing feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness was blanketing them. It was late and the roads were not trafficked, there was no one chasing them. Had something happened in the company, or at the dorm? With a heavy, painful pang in his chest Yoongi remembered the words he had read just some hours before - _Open the door, Min Yoongi_ – and a sudden shiver shook his body. He didn’t want to think it was connected, he really didn’t want to. The idea was unsettling him to the core.

“Fuck.” Behind him, Taehyung let out a single, stupefied word.

 All eyes were immediately on him.

 “What?”

Taehyung, who had been scrolling down his phone, looked up at Namjoon’s question, white as a ghost. The kid slightly wet his lips. His eyes flickered briefly to Yoongi and then got back to their leader. He turned their phone in their direction, as Jungkook gripped his wrist hard to see. Someone gasped, Yoongi’s brain distractedly registered that it had been Hoseok. Someone swore.

Yoongi abandoned himself back on the seat and shut his eyes closed.

The entrance hall of their dorm building was on fire.

 

**

“ _Hyung_ , maybe you should sit.”

“I’m fine.”

In the midst of panic, confusion, and shock that had followed the news, the manager had brought them to a little but clean hotel in the suburbs, where they were all currently standing or sitting around waiting for the other company people and probably Bang PD himself to arrive.

In all that chaos, Yoongi didn’t feel like to sit at all and preferred to stand and stalk, walking up and down the small room.

The other guys were all gathered around Jungkook’s phone, watching the latest news.

Two Molotov bombs had triggered the fire, the reporter was saying. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt, only the doorkeeper had sustained mild injuries. Some passerby had immediately alerted both the police and the firemen, so only the entrance hall of the building had been impaired by the flames. The damage was not huge, everyone was safe. Things could have been so much worse.

“ _Hyung,_ ” Taehyung called again, with a pleading tone that attracted the attention of other two members. Seokjin and Jimin both turned in their direction. 

“Min Yoongi, sit,” Seokjin immediately ordered from where he was standing, an arm pointed at one of the twin beds.

Yoongi grimaced.

“I’m not a dog,” he murmured but felt pressured to walk towards the bed anyway. He sat down heavily, with sagging shoulders and a touch of defiance. Seokjin shot him another warning glare and went back to look at the  _maknae’s_  phone. Taehyung had joined them and was now engulfed in a claustrophobic hug by Hoseok. Why they were all looking at the same little iPhone when the room had a television, Yoongi had no idea.

For a brief moment, he wondered if his mom had seen the news and was trying to call him on the broken phone. Should he lend someone’s else cellular to call her? Should he wait for the security or Bang PD to arrive? Maybe there were details he wasn’t supposed to reveal.

Yoongi was struggling to concentrate, his mind splattered all over the place. The messages, the phone, the calls, the phone. The door.  _Don’t open the door, Min Yoongi_  -

He felt the bed sinking. 

“Hey.”

Yoongi lifted his head from where he was staring at the floor. Jimin gently bumped their shoulders together.

“You want something to drink? There’s coke in the fridge.”

“No, I’m fine,” he shrugged.

Jimin nodded and looked down at his folded hands.

They stayed like this for a while, side to side, Yoongi counting and counting the tiles on the floor while Jimin was a quiet but somewhat reassuring presence next to him. Then quick footsteps were heard through the hall, with low voices coming their way. Someone knocked on the door. There was only a short pause before their manager let a small group of people in.

As he had predicted, Bang Si-hyuk was there too. With a wrinkled suit and a dark face, he looked worn-out and worried. Yoongi forced himself to stand, dragging a boneless Jimin up with him.

“Good evening,” the older man said while closing the door. He gestured at a couple of police officers Yoongi immediately recognized from a previous meeting. “These gentlemen would like to talk to you, Suga.”

“Privately, if possible,” one of the policemen added with a curt nod.

Yoongi looked around in the small room and at his wide-eyes members. There was just enough space for the twin beds, he had no idea where private could be. To be honest, he hadn’t known for weeks, so if please the officers could tell him he would be fucking grateful.  

“How about the restroom?” the manager suggested before he could speak.

The idea was ridiculous enough. Poked in the ribs by a little finger, he followed the officers and Bang PD inside the brightly lit bathroom. 

“Why the privacy?” he immediately turned to his boss. “The members know everything already.”

“We’re still trying to figure out what happened.” It was one of the policemen who answered; the tall, dark one. His warm voice did little to calm Yoongi down. “And that’s why we need you...”

He took out a folder from his bag and opened it. Inside there were dozens of black and white photos. They looked like they were taken from a security camera footage.

“We would like you to look at these pictures and tell us if you recognize someone,” the man handed him the folder. Yoongi took it hesitantly. In one glance, he identified the location as their home address, the building in the foreground as their dorm edifice. There were few cars on the street, some pedestrians walking by. 

“Do you recognize anyone, Suga?” Bang Si-hyuk prompted him.

 Yoongi kept browsing the pictures, caressing their smooth surface, checking carefully one by one.

Until he saw.

“This one,” he pointed with a shaking hand. A white, round face was turned towards the camera, the body only partially visible inside the passenger seat of a black, small car.

He glanced up at the police officers, who were looking at him expectantly.

“I saw him before,” he gulped down, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Where?”

“He’s the guy,” he said, abruptly closing the file and giving it back to the officer. “The elevator guy.”

“Are you sure?” Bang PD insisted.

In the chaotic morning when he had given his statement, Yoongi had struggled to focus and to give a somewhat decent facial description. He had been too tired, too stressed and probably too scared to provide any useful insight. Later, he had tried to remember the moment when a face appeared on the background of a dark elevator, in the empty hall of a building, in the doorstep of their home. All he could see was the ghostly whiteness of the man’s skin and the curve of a knife. Nothing more. He had read on a random psychology website that it could have been shock, but he had refused the idea that his mind was failing him too.    

But whatever had crashed his memory till that moment was now gone and looking at the picture Yoongi couldn’t have been surer that yes, that was the fucker. How could he have forgotten that face?

“Of course.”

The tall officer smiled down at him.

“That’s all we needed,” he said. “We’re going to take him soon. Don’t worry, Min-sshi.”

With a gentle pat on the shoulder, both policemen walked to the door.

“Wait,” Yoongi suddenly remembered, halting them on their feet. “I also got messages on my phone.”

They both turned back at him.

“Your manager informed us this morning,” the tall one said. “Something new happened?”

“He contacted me again, on a new number.”

“That’s interesting.” Interesting was a huge understatement. “We will check at the phone company, too. They might have someone selling your information. Could we take the phone for some analysis?”

Yoongi quietly took it from his coat and handed it.

“Thank you. We will let you know as soon as possible.” They then exited the bathroom together with the manager, leaving Yoongi and Bang behind.

“Wait a moment, Suga.”

The older man was looking at him, arms crossed on the chest and a half, pensive scowl. 

“Jungkook fainted last week,” Bang said.

Yoongi stood there, stunned by the sudden news.

“It wasn’t a serious thing,” Bang PD paused for a second. “He hadn’t slept well in the last few weeks and that also affected his eating habits. He rested for a couple of days and was well afterward.”

Yoongi twisted his mouth. How come he hadn’t known? He tried to recall a day where the  _maknae_  had looked even a bit under the weather, but couldn’t. He hadn’t known, he hadn’t notice. No one had told him.

“I don’t want you to feel guilty or to worry,” Bang PD’s soothing voice was reaching him through his train of thoughts. “The kids didn’t want to tell you. They worry. But I think you should know. Hard times are better if shared together…”

But Yoongi had stopped listening.

  

**

It was later in the night, after same instant noodles and a quick shower that Yoongi had felt like asking. They have been divided among four rooms, Taehyung desolately sharing with a manager and Yoongi with Jimin. Wide-awake, they had first tried watching television, then looked into Instagram and YouTube, read some more news and in the end, still unwilling to sleep but too tired to do anything else, they had joint their beds together and stared mindlessly at the ceiling.

In the quiet of their room, with a dark sky behind the open curtains, it seemed ok to ask.

“Jungkook fainted last week?”

Jimin had slightly turned his head to look at him.

“How do you know?”

“Bang PD told me.”

“Why?” Jimin asked, frowning. Then he noticed Yoongi’s expression and added: “We didn’t tell you, I’m sorry. You were just getting better and…”

_I thought there shouldn’t be lies between us,_  Yoongi could have said.  _At least between you and I._

The more he was thinking of it, though, the more he understood and so he kept his mouth shut. Same things were better if left in the dark. Yoongi would have still kept the  _sasaeng_  secret if that would have meant less worry and struggle for his members. 

He, though - he didn’t need to be protected. Oh hell, no.

“Answer my question.”

“Ok, ok! Hobi told me he was out for half a minute. They gave him some sports drinks and crackers and sent him to the dorm immediately after,” Jimin looked at him, unsure, and then continued. “He was fine. Nothing to worry about.” 

Yoongi wasn’t so certain.

“Which day was it?”

“Last Tuesday?  _Hyung_ , really, it was not that bad.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together in a thin line. What was he doing last Tuesday? He couldn’t even remember.

“ _Hyung_?” Jimin was propped now on his elbow. Yoongi looked back at him, at the concerned face, and gave him a little smile.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. He stretched a hand to affectionately mess up his hair. “Let’s sleep.”

He waited still in the dark, fighting overwhelming tiredness until he heard Jimin’s soft breath even out. Then he closed his eyes and finally surrendered. 

 

**

The morning after, Yoongi realized two things. The first one was that Jimin still liked to cuddle and had moved on his side of the bed to snore in his ear, one arm dropped over his torso. The second thing was that with some luck the police was already after the crazy elevator guy and the crazy Molotov bomb guy, the same motherfucker with two different weapons and the same obsession with doors.

“You should write a song about this,” a sleepy voice said near his neck. 

Surprised, Yoongi moved his head to look at Jimin, who always moved even when asleep and was thus now pinned down by Yoongi’s arm. For a split second, he wondered if he should feel awkward about it. Then he remembered it was not the first time they had shared a bed and it was not the first time they hugged, even if rarely the two things would happen at the same.

“A song on how you snored and squeezed me all night long?” He asked, with half of a smile.

“No!” the kid exclaimed. The warmth on his side left him as Jimin sat up in a swirl, nearly colliding with Yoongi’s chin with his head. “I mean, about the guy. A song. About him. For catharsis,” the man was now stuttering, a bright red glow on the skin.

Yoongi laughed. Maybe he was really a sadist and liked looking at people in distress, or maybe he found Jimin’s aura of embarrassment and clumsiness cuter than usual. The man was indeed quite adorable in the orange light of their room, with closed curtains and few fragments of lights passing through in a dazing game of shadows.

Still smiling, Yoongi reached with both hands to hold at the man’s muscular waist, skin hot through the thin fabric of the shirt. Looking up at him, at that sometimes shy but captivating creature, Yoongi  _wondered_  and not for the first time. And with the wonder, his heart shook a little.

“Don’t make fun of me,  _hyung_ _,_ ” Jimin was complaining with a small frown. “I was serious.”

“Lie down,” he said instead and pulled the younger man down close to him, touching but not openly hugging again. Jimin complied with a huff but didn’t comment. Not much unlikely the night before, they stared at the ceiling side by side.

“It’s a good idea,” Yoongi said after a while, feeling warm and happy. “We could do it together.”

“Really?” Jimin sounded dubious.

“Yeah. We were the only ones out there when it happened.”

“I was inside the dorm.” 

“But you saw him.”

“Only a glimpse!”

Yoongi turned his head to face him.

“Was that not enough?” he asked gently.

Jimin looked at him with intense, searching eyes and then licked his lips.

“It was.”

 

**

They didn’t spend much more time in their oasis of peace. After half an hour of soft conversation, a phone started to ring. Jimin stood up with a grunt and retrieved the offending little thing from a pile of clothes on the chair. After glancing briefly at the screen, he answered:

“ _Hyung_. Ok. Ok. Bye.” The shortest conversation ever.

“Who was it?”

“Seokjin,” Jimin replied. “They are going to the hotel’s restaurant for lunch. There is some news, too.”

Yoongi lifted both eyebrows but didn’t comment, watching Jimin fleeing to the bathroom. He forced his back in lifting him from the bed and yawned hard. The air in the room was chillier that he had thought, making his bare skin crawl. He located his yesterday’s wrinkled clothes and stood up to collect them. Gross. His shirt smelled of alcohol and smoke, even if he distinctly remembered he had neither, but he didn’t have any other choice since no one had returned to their dorm. They would have to sit at their lunch table with elegant but worn out clothes, as a cheap and tired parody of themselves.

He dressed up quickly and left the jacket and the necktie behind, deciding to wear his coat directly above the shirt. Not the wisest fashion statement but everything stank and he was cold and felt like complaining a little bit by himself.     

“Come on, _hyung_. Hurry up!” Jimin called him from inside the bathroom, where he was probably busy checking his own 5 o’ clock shadow.

“I’m ready.”

Jimin’s head sprang out from the bathroom.

“Oh. You are,” he looked mildly surprised as if he had doubted Yoongi was willing to stand up for the promise of a low-cost buffet. “Let’s go then.”

They wore their shoes and quietly departed the room to navigate in the empty hallway.

“Which direction?” Jimin asked, looking around. Yoongi laid a hand on the small of his back, quite satisfied in the warmth spreading up from his fingers.

“Such a short memory,” he teased. “Were you sleepwalking yesterday night?”

He guided the kid on the right, down the carpeted corridor and in front of the elevators. Jimin let out a short, breathless laugh.

“I was just really tired,” he replied, “I don’t even remember when we split from the others.”

“Ah,” Yoongi simply acknowledged and pushed the button.

When the elevator arrived on their floor, he steered Jimin inside and kept the hand on his back without a thought. The kid, though, was stealing glances at him.

“Are you ok?”

The doors gave out a soft beep and swiftly opened at the first floor.

“Sure,” Yoongi answered, slightly startled by the random question. In all honesty, it had been one of the best mornings in the last period, even considering the disaster of the night before. Sleeping until late, no pressure and no noise, only him and Jimin quietly huddled in one big comfortable bed.

He led the younger man outside and halted immediately after. He figured he had to finish this conversation before meeting with the other members but wasn’t so certain of what could come out of it.

“Why?” he asked, turning to face the other man.

“You look… happy?”

Yoongi raised one eyebrow.

“And I… shouldn’t be?” A statement that came across more like a question.

“No, no. I mean...,” Jimin was desperately searching for words, moving his arms in the air as he was about to dance.  “I thought you would be different after last night.”

Yoongi reflected. Last night had a building in fire and a broken phone, all the reason to be angry and terrorized. Surprisingly, though, he had come out of it better than he would have imagined. With a twitch in his neck, he couldn’t help but wonder if that morning he had sparked more than a kind of flames inside him. A tiny light to look forward, a hope, a sentiment to treasure with both hands and the warmth of a body that wore all the same name.

His face suddenly felt hot. He cleared his voice.

“I guess I slept better than usual.” A harmless half-truth.

Jimin brightened up immediately.

“We should pair up more often, then!” he beamed. “It must have been my natural good vibes!”

Yoongi didn’t bother answering and just nodded, too busy in willing his blush away.

“Honestly, I’ve always thought Jin hyung was too quiet. You need someone positive and cheerful to start well your…”

“Jimin, Yoongi! Here you are!”

“ _Hyung!_ ”

With a mouth open in mid-sentence, Jimin turned to look at the direction of the voices. From around a corner leading to the entrance hall, all BTS members were running or walking fast towards them, expressions full of joy. The first one to descend upon them at full speed was Jungkook who, with all the strength of his youth, didn’t even hesitate one second before seizing Yoongi in his arms in a giant, powerful hug.

Suddenly stolen of his breath and movement, Yoongi couldn’t escape when Taehyung, Seokjin, and Hoseok joined them in the embrace, nearly making him fall all over from the force of the impact.

Speechless and muted from the laughs of the kids, Yoongi could only glance at Namjoon, who was leading an equally astonished Jimin to their group. Their leader was smiling openly, relief and happiness in the small eyes, emotions that Yoongi hadn’t seen for too many weeks.

“They took him,” Namjoon’s smile grew even bigger. “They arrested the fucker.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that was easy, wasn't it?
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin) !  
>  [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin) ! 
> 
> And thank you to every single one of you who reads, comments and leaves Kudos and so on. It means a lot :) .

 

****

** Found Man Responsible for BTS’s Dorm Fire    **

Kim Ki-woong is the firebomber who attached BTS’ dorm building last Saturday at 11:56 PM. Two Molotov bombs and the resulting fire caused an estimated 37 million won of damage and first degree burns on the custodian, who was immediately rushed to the nearest hospital…

Read More

-

 

** Kim Ki-woong Accused of Arson, Aggravated Stalking, and Attempted Homicide **

BTS’s Min Yoongi confirmed the man responsible for the firebombing attack Kim Ki-woong is also his stalker, Seoul Police’s inside source revealed earlier today. Kim is now facing new charges while investigations continue into how one outsider could have had so much information on…

Read More

-

****

** Kim Ki-woong “just wanted to kill him” **

The 42-year-old man broke his silence on Wednesday after the discovery of new documents revealing important details on the case. The documents found in Kim Ki-woong’s apartment show he may have had more targets in mind after BTS’ rapper Min Yoongi, and that he was planning his murder as the first one of many. Kim appeared emotionless in…

Read More

-

 

 

**

 

“Is he really sleeping?”

“Sure looks like that.”

“Won’t he die?” 

“Probably, after a while.”

Yoongi grunted: “It’s not that hot.”

“Oh, he is awake.”

“Jin _hyung_ ,” Yoongi groaned, moving the little towel away from his face. He blinked up at the two faces above him.

The man was smirking, arms crossed in front of his white robe. Beside him, Taehyung was stretching out a hand to Yoongi.

“We came to fetch you,” he explained. “We are all going to the hot pools.”

Yoongi grasped his hand and was helped on his feet.

“Why do I need to come?” he complained without any strength in it. He was enjoying the sauna.

“Bonding time,” Taehyung said shrugging his shoulders.

It was nothing to do with the TV show, thank God. They had already spent all day hiking and playing silly games in front of the cameras. It was nice for once to relax without a schedule, especially since that was supposed to be their last day of shooting.

When they arrived at the pools, placed in a small outside area of the hot spring resort, Jungkook and Hoseok were playing in the middle of the pond, while Jimin and Namjoon were quietly speaking in a corner. Taehyung immediately jumped into the water and walked over to join the effort in drowning the  _maknae_.

At least the place was otherwise empty, Yoongi thought, so the kids could be as loud as they wanted. Even the managers were occupied elsewhere. The last time he had seen them they all were snoring in the relaxing room. 

He settled himself beside Jimin and promptly rested the head on the ceramic border, half-closed eyes.

“Isn’t this great?” Jin was exclaiming while slowly sinking down to his shoulders. “I would do this every single day.”

“We should install a Jacuzzi in the dorm.” Namjoon sighed, a slow relaxed smile on his face.

“We should first move to a new dorm.”

“The company is already looking into that. Something huge, with a better security.”

“Everyone will have their own room?”

“Probably,” Namjoon replied.

A whistle from Seokjin.

“That sounds amazing!” There was a moment of pause and, “Then I want a Jacuzzi in my room.”

“I doubt you can,  _hyung_.”

“Ha! And you know, how?”

Yoongi sank deeper in the pond and blurred away from the conversation, using it as a sort of nice, monotonous background. The water was so warm and nice all around him. It seemed like a hug on tired muscles, like the quiet grey limbo he desperately needed to disappear, to hide, to drown himself into. And of course, with a little silence outside, his thoughts starting flowing like rivers.

 

For weeks all he had wanted was to go out of his body, to do something crazy, to break expensive things. And yet, he had continued every morning like the last, waking up and sorting his life piece by piece as nothing had happened. He knew he was making everyone worry, he could see it in the furtive glances they would send his way whenever they thought he wouldn’t notice. He saw it in the way they would prepare all his favorite foods, watch his favorite movies, listen to his music. They were pampering Yoongi in a not so subtle approach to distract him from the news, to shield him from the videos they thought he hadn’t seen, from all the rumors and noises that were slowly crashing him, impossible to avoid.

They were acting as naturally as possible, but the problem was that Yoongi had forgotten how to and just followed without real intent. He didn’t know how to walk without checking two thousand times over the shoulder, looking for a shadow. He couldn’t stay alone in the living room without hearing distant echoes of a knife on wood. He couldn’t even step on an elevator without his heart beating painfully against his ribs.

And shit wasn’t that embarrassing.

Wasn’t he pathetic?

He had thought, like a stupid, that once it was over it would be over but he was still a mess.  

Hard to change that, wasn’t it?

“You’re thinking too loudly,” a wet finger suddenly poked him on the forehead. Yoongi opened his eyes and found Jimin.

“You should try,” he answered automatically, without real bite. “It’s good to think sometimes.”      

“Don’t be rude,  _hyung_. I know you don’t mean it.”

“Of course I don’t,” Yoongi murmured. The younger man could be extremely unsure of himself at times and Yoongi didn’t want to cause that. Never. Especially not when Jimin was smiling at him, wet hair brushed away from the forehead, drops of water running from his neck down the hard, hidden curves of his body.

Fuck. Yoongi should stop thinking like that in public. Especially if he was wearing only a thin swimsuit. 

“So what were you thinking about?” Jimin asked, obvious to Yoongi’s internal turmoil.

“Nothing special.”

The kid splashed water on his face. Then laughed.

“You know, it’s obvious when you lie.”

“Is it really?”

Jimin nodded and bumped on his shoulder, playful. And bumped on him, and bumped into him again. Yoongi sneaked an arm around his naked skin and grabbed the man by the waist.

“Would you please stay still?”

Another clear laugh and Jimin’s body was almost entirely pressing on him. Yoongi knew he had to thank the water for it, but his heart skipped a beat nonetheless. He could feel his muscles moving and stretching under his fingers… The temperature rose. Black, liquid eyes pinned him down. The sensual arch of a smile. The strong, male body anchored against his.

“What would you do, uhm…” Jimin hummed, a hand laying splayed over the center of Yoongi’s chest. “If I didn’t stay still.”

Holy fucking hell. Jimin was flirting with him.

Yoongi gritted his teeth to stop the involuntarily, possessive growl that wanted to escape his lips. He stared into those black eyes, tightening the grip on the man’s waist. In that endless gaze something suddenly changed, something flickered. Something shifted.

Then a splash, a shout and a thunderous laugh. Jimin fled from his arms as he had never been there. Yoongi, who had forgotten a world existed behind the two of them, felt empty and cold for an instant. Then he looked around at the scene displaying in front.   

“You guys are so loud,” he heard Namjoon complaining.

 

Hoseok just laughed. He had been the one who had just dived in the middle of their group, and the one who also had broken the moment between Yoongi and Jimin. Yoongi kinda wanted to strangle him. Then, he turned to glance at Jimin and met his gaze. Under all the embarrassment, the shyness and the pure gentleness that made him him, Yoongi could still see the spark that was burning his heart to ashes.

Nothing was lost then, he mused. Hoseok could live another day.

 

**

‘’Hey, leave me some.’’

‘’No need to be greedy.’’

“But Yoongi  _hyung_  is giving the best to you…”

Yoongi didn’t confirm nor deny. He was giving the best meat to the least annoying members. Jimin just happened to be one of them.

They were having a celebratory dinner at a BBQ restaurant and the kids were obnoxious and excited as ever, not missing any chance to play, proposing toasts for absurd reasons and generally making a mess. Small children, all of them.

Usually, Yoongi would have been happy without participating much, but that evening was slightly different. Jimin’s body was constantly pressed on his side and that made him feel strangely lightheaded, hands tingling.

Or maybe it was the alcohol, he couldn’t decide.

“He likes me better,” Jimin smugly retorted. He entwined their arms together, making it a little bit challenging for Yoongi to turn the meat on the hot plate. 

“It’s not true.  _Hyung_ , tell him it’s not true!”

“It’s true.” His response prompted laughs from one side and undignified laments on the other. With a little grin, he tossed a piece of hot fuming meat on Hoseok’s bowl. He liked the kid, of course. He loved him as his own brother. Still, he couldn’t forget that fucking diving in the pool and the feeling of loss after Jimin’s body left. So yeah, Hoseok. Sorry, not sorry.

  

The night soon degenerated. Being the last day of shooting and the last before they had to go back to Seoul, the managers closed one or both eyes in front of their happy celebrations. They didn’t even blink when bottles of alcohol got pulled out from a non-suspicious plastic bag and beers got replaced by whiskey and soju.

“Just don’t throw up in the car tomorrow,” Seijin hyung-nim pleaded before sharing with them a toast.

After the restaurant, the party continued in Taehyung and Hoseok’s room, only seven people invited. Too much alcohol and chaos followed. Yoongi took shot after shot because of some stupid game they were playing.

“I don’t even know why I’m obeying the rules,” he groaned after another shot of whiskey burned his throat. “It seems like I’m the only one drinking here.”

“Taehyung is drinking too.”

 

“Taehyung is shit at playing games.”

“That’s not true,” the man in question protested. He almost stumbled over Namjoon in the effort.

“Look, Yoongi. I’m drinking too,” Jin said as he raised his glass at him, a smart expression on the face. “Now, you lost so be a good boy and drink your soju. Ok?”

Six expectant faces focused on him and Yoongi didn’t want to ruin the mood. So he swallowed the drink along the cheers of his members.

He knocked the glass on the floor and… Wow, that one hit him hard. As the one after it, and the one after too. To be completely honest, he lost a bit of time here and there. He was aware they changed the game after a while, that he ate a bag of chips by himself and of someone leaving at some point. Then he was aware of standing and leaning over Jimin, and that he was saying something to Taehyung in front of him.

It must have been bad because a beat of silence followed his outburst. Then Jimin said:

“Ooook, I think it’s time for us to go.”

“We were having fun,” Yoongi complained.

Jimin pushed him out of Taehyung and Hoseok’s room.

“Yeah, but we can continue in our room,” and then in an afterthought: “That sounded dirty.”

“It did.”

“You’re not helping, Tae.”

The kid laughed and followed them down the corridors up to their room. He murmured a few words Yoongi didn’t grasp and left soon after. Jimin, who had half dragged him all the way, left him leaning on the wall while he opened the door.

“Maybe you should take a shower,” he said once they were inside. “And drink some water.”

Yoongi took off his shoes and dropped on the double bed they had been sharing. In the sudden quietness of their room, he was starting to feel the exhaustion of that long day.

“Water is a nice idea,” he mumbled. A glass of cool water appeared in front of his eyes. He blinked. That had been fast. He took it with unsteady hands.

“Drink it all.”

“Mmmh mmmh.”

As soon as he had gulped the water down, Jimin took back the glass, refilled it and placed it on the nightstand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked then, gently sinking into the bed beside Yoongi.

“I’m wonderful.”

Jimin chuckled and positioned himself against the headboard.

“You’ll regret drinking so much in a couple of hours.”

“Probably,” Yoongi nodded and damn if that small movement wasn’t already making his head spin. He shot a glance at Jimin, who was still observing him with half of a smile.

“And why are you not drunk?” he asked because it seemed unfair if he was the only one. Jimin just shrugged.

“I didn’t want to be sick the morning after.”

“Fair enough.”

It was also better since they had only one bathroom to share and vomit was a nasty stuff. But why was he thinking so much about it, anyway? Blegh, disgusting.

“All the emotions on your face,” Jimin’s amused voice reached him through his fluctuating thoughts. “I should take a video of this.”

“Don’t you dare,” he pointed an unsteady finger at the other man.

Jimin laughed again and his face looked both extremely beautiful and wobbly to Yoongi’s eyes. Or maybe it was him, the one shaking.

“Alcohol does lower your inhibitions, doesn’t it?” 

“I suspect it does,” he mused, mouth faster than his mind. Was it just him or that room was fucking hot?

“As I needed other proofs after last time.”

“Last time?” Yoongi asked. He started taking off his sweater but got kinda stacked at the arms. Damn.

“Yeah. You were quite a show,” Jimin’s murmur got closer. Another pair of hands reached out and helped to untangle him. “Couldn’t believe my eyes, to be honest.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” he said as he finally got free from the sweater. The cooler air did nothing to sober him up.

“I know you don’t.” This time the smile looked almost sad. “But it’s not that important,” Jimin dismissed it, starting to move back to the headboard. Yoongi stopped him, a hand grasping his arm.

Jimin glanced at him, Yoongi swallowed.

He could have done many things. He could have left the arm, left Jimin go. He could have laughed and pretended, like always, that it was only a game between friends. He could have done many things, all different from what in the end he did.

Yoongi found himself crawling over Jimin, kneeling so that his legs were on each side of the other’s thighs. Then, his sluggish mind provided information. He was hot, blood pulsing in his veins. He had probably had too much whiskey and would regret it in the morning.

He was also sitting in Jimin’s lap.

Wow, fuck.

His head abruptly spun and he would have lost his balance if two hands hadn’t grasped at his waist, powerful arms supporting Yoongi from completely falling over.  

“ _Hyung,_ ” Jimin whispered, eyes widening and breathing fastening under the palm of Yoongi’s hands.

One thing that Yoongi had always loved about his job, even years before he figured out the meaning of it, was how dancers would breathe after a strenuous performance. Chests quickly expanded and contracted, muscles trying to gain control back. A show of dominance, of power, of skills and strength. But also of elegance and beauty.

Yoongi had always found it so sexy he would steal glances and replay videos until exhaustion, or until he would surrender and bury the feeling.

It still amazed him how Jimin could be all of that, powerful and tender at the same time. He liked it so, so fucking much.  

So he moved without thinking.

He cradled Jimin’s head in both hands, mesmerized by every single detail of his face. His chin was so manly, so strong and gorgeous, and yet the skin under his palms felt soft and smooth. Had he shaved before dinner? Or was it always like this? He slowly leaned over and tilted his head to touch Jimin cheek to cheek. He closed his eyes, hands going forward to sink in silky strands of hair. It felt like paradise, it filled his lungs with burning emotions.  

 _I’m too drunk for this_ , Yoongi suddenly thought as two arms pushed him against a lean, hot body. Yet, he didn’t have it in his heart to stop. He left a kiss on the cheek, then another at the temple, soft gasps the only reaction from the other man.

He took a breath and his skin crawled in pleasure at the faint smell of green apples.

“You smell so good,” he murmured into his hair.

“Yoongi…”

“Tell me, Jiminnie,” Yoongi nosed an ear, kissing the soft lobe tenderly. “Tell me everything.”

A strangled sound and he was now crushed against Jimin’s chest, arms engulfing him in a tight hug. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea…”

But Jimin didn’t seem intentioned of letting him go if the hands traveling up and down his spine were an indication. Could Yoongi trust his senses? His mind was spinning so hard now it was difficult to concentrate. He let his head fall on Jimin’s little alcove between neck and shoulder.

“You’re always so good to me,” he murmured against the soft fabric, trying to anchor his spiraling mind. “I’m not good for you.”

A slow, gentle hand brushed his hair away from his face.

“That’s not true.”

He tried to swallow away the lump in his throat.

“I just want to make you feel good.”

Why was it turning so fucking emotional all of sudden, for fuck sake?

“You do,” Jimin murmured. But Yoongi wasn’t sure. He knew he had messed up so many times in the past. This mess was all his fault, too.

“It’s not your fault.”

The gentle hand kept caressing his hair in steady slow movements. It was almost hypnotic. It made his bones melt, his limbs relax in the embrace.

“I’m just so tired,” he mumbled after a while. The regular rhythm of the man’s breath was soothing to his nerves. He was falling asleep like this, a boneless heap, Jimin’s arms keeping him still, keeping him grounded.

“I know. It’s ok.”

So Yoongi let go. The last thing he was distantly aware of before blacking out was a murmur, said between amusement and fondness:

“You’re such a bad drunk.”

 

**

The morning after Yoongi wished he was dead. He had a supreme headache, something had died in his mouth and he probably would need to throw up in a while. 

He remembered everything, too.

“I will never drink again,” he groaned, covering his face with one hand to block the sunlight.

With as fewer movements as possible, he checked the room. He was alone. Jimin’s side was empty and cold.

Maybe if Yoongi stayed still enough the bed would absorb him and they would become one thing. Anything would be better than standing up and living. Meeting with the others. Facing Jimin. Ugh.

Was there something more awkward than being a sad drunk, cuddling with another member and falling asleep on him? A member he had a huge crush on, just to add insult to injury?

 

 _Man up_ , he mentally shook himself. Min Yoongi never gives up, not even in this. Or better, especially not in this. He would face Jimin and deal with whatever emotions he would find. A little part of him just hoped it wouldn’t be hate. Shame, shyness, embarrassment; those he could handle. Hate from Jimin would probably kill him.

If his foggy memories weren’t completely fucked up, though, Yoongi could tentatively be optimistic. He remembered only in flashes but -  _man! -_  were those images and feelings making him blush for all different reasons. If he concentrated enough he could still feel Jimin’s hands on him, on his spine, in his hair. Yoongi so much wished the other man would be up to repeat and deepen the experience.

However, there was only one way to know and that involved him standing up from that bed and show his face outside. So he stumbled into the bathroom and threw up, showered and threw up a second time. He deserved it for being such an asshole with that bottle of whiskey…

It was past one in the afternoon when he felt decent enough to walk out of their room. His hair was still damp and he probably needed two liters of water to replenish what he had lost, but overall he was feeling confident enough and ready to fight. Metaphorically fight, of course.

 

When he entered the hotel main restaurant there were only a few people, who didn’t look twice at him anyway. He found the surviving members at a remote corner of the hall. Seokjin, Namjoon, and Jimin were quietly sharing lunch and looked up as soon as they spotted him.

“Hey,” he greeted, immediately glancing at Jimin. Yoongi, seriously, you have no chill.

“Good morning, little sunshine! Or should I say good afternoon?” Seokjin motioned for him to sit down at Jimin side.

Well, wonderful.

Yoongi sat in silence. Namjoon said nothing and handed him a glass of water, looking green and as hungover as Yoongi. Jimin also said nothing and Yoongi suddenly felt like throwing up again. Where did all his confidence go?

“Where are the others?” he asked as soon as he had ordered some food to the waiter. He sipped the cool water.

“Hoseok and Jungkook are out for a walk. The managers ate like two hours ago. Taehyung is still sleeping,” Seokjin answered, then raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought you would sleep the day away, too. Why are you up so early?”

At that, even Jimin glanced over. Yoongi struggled to find an answer that wasn’t _I wanted to know if Jimin hates or loves me now_.

“I was hungry,” he said instead, keeping it simple. 

Seokjin nodded like Yoongi had revealed the universal meaning of life. Yoongi thanked the waiter who had brought his lunch and promptly started to wolf down the food. 

“So, did you have fun last night?”

Yoongi almost spat his rice in surprise. Seokjin, the picture of innocence, was smiling widely at him. There were no reasons to suspect he knew anything, but in hell, Yoongi didn’t know his  _hyung_  enough to recognize that grin. Maybe the man had no idea, maybe he only suspected, but he still had all intentions to make his life even more awkward than what it was already.

“I had fun,” Yoongi forced himself to not turn and look at Jimin.

“So what did you do after we left?”

“We went to sleep.”

“Oh!” Only one sound, so pregnant of hidden meanings. Yoongi felt himself blush.

Thank god someone had still some pity for him.

“Jin  _hyung_ ,” Namjoon grumbled from the cup of coffee he was nursing. His tone didn’t have any bite in it but clearly sounded like an admonishment to Yoongi’s sensitive ears. Apparently, Seokjin heard the same because he raised up both hands in surrender, but still sported a little smirk on that annoying face.  

“Ook. Well, I now remember we have something to do,” the man stood up and grasped Namjoon’s arm. “Don’t we, Joonie?”

“What?” the man blinked at his half-finished plate of  _bibimbap_. Seokjin’s smile was becoming more and more strained.

“Namjoon, you forgot,” he continued through gritted teeth “We have to discuss. Things. Yeah.”

After one more savage glare from the older man, realization seemed to hit Namjoon. He quickly stood up and mumbled a couple of incomprehensive words to Jimin and Yoongi.

“Yeah. Right.”  Seokjin nodded dismissively. “Well, see you later!”

The pair ran out of the restaurant like their asses were on fire. It would have looked comical if that hadn’t left them speechless and embarrassed at the table.

Jimin cleared his throat, Yoongi went back to sip his water.

“Don’t worry, hyung,” the younger man finally broke the silence, after few agonizing minutes. He was purposefully staring at the dish in front of him. “It’s my fault, even if they mean well,” he assured. Then, a quieter, disgruntled mumble: “I should have stayed quiet.”

Well, that was awkward.

“What did you tell them?” Yoongi asked against his better judgment.

Jimin turned red on the cheeks. He stole a glance at him and then bit his lower lip, frowning.

Yoongi had a couple of ideas of which words could come out next.

 _I’m sorry_ hyung _, but you’re overstepping boundaries. You tried to kiss me last night but I don’t feel like that for you. We should just stay friends._

He would accept everything but uncertainty.

When the silence stretched and it seemed like the other man had no intention of saying more, Yoongi knew he had to act. He took a long breath. Now or never.

“Jiminnie,” he started. He extended a hand over the table and curled his fingers around Jimin’s wrist. “Whatever you think. Whatever you want, it’s fine,” he said, searching for his eyes.

“It is,” he repeated as the kid’s frown deepened. “But I want you to know, I regret nothing of yesterday night,” and then he added because it was true: “Well, aside from getting shit-faced. That’s it.”

That earned him a small, surprised laugh. Jimin met his gaze from under his long, messy bangs and a hand suddenly clasped his own. Then a smile graced his face and it took Yoongi’s breath away. In that endearing smile, in those sweet eyes, he saw all the world’s awe, the concern, the excitement, the tiredness, and all the tenderness.

“I regret nothing,” the man said.

“Ok.” Yoongi swallowed.

“Ok.” Jimin smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimin and Yoongi sitting in the tree, 
> 
> K-i-s-s-i-n-g!  
> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my sweet and lovely beta [ LucifersSin ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersSin/pseuds/LucifersSin) !
> 
> Because of some things I have to finish in real life, next chapter will be on the 17/6! So I'll see you guys in two weeks!  
> Enjoy!

 

 

**[YoonMin 2017 Moments (Part 4)]**

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Comments – 1927

Top Comments ˅

**ToMhOlLaNd** _2 weeks ago_

Suga is too damn obvious, I can't.

 _View all 10 replies_  ˅

 

**PomPomPom** _2 weeks ago_

It’s nice to see them happy. I hope they will stay like this forever.

 _View all 3 replies_  ˅

 

**Mycatiscuterthanyours** _1 week ago_

The way they look at each other at  **12:23**  !!!!!

 _View all 4 replies_  ˅

 

**Sam Stan** _1 week ago_

YOONMIN IS REAL!

 _View 1 reply_  ˅

 

**

“I think it’s enough. If everyone agrees we can just wrap it up for tonight and meet tomorrow for the second part,” one of the vocal couches said. One minute of silence. No one objected. “Ok, then. Good job, everyone!”

With a short burst of applause, the singing rehearsal ended. People started leaving, the musicians and sound technicians busied themselves in store everything away. Yoongi stood up and stretched, leaning on one side and then the other. Singing rehearsal was much more bearable than the dancing one, but sitting for hours always did a number on his back.

“We leave in ten,” Hobeom hyungreminded them, before walking away to exchange a few more words with the other managers.

The kids didn’t need to be told twice. They collected their stuff, put everything in the backpacks and were ready to go home in less than three minutes. The lights were slowly turned off when they walked out of the rehearsal room.

“Who wants to take some tteokbokki on the way?” Jungkook asked.

“It’s eleven. How can you be hungry?”

“I’m still growing, I need the energy,” the maknae replied, and then cheekily added: “You can’t understand, Jimin  _hyung_. You stopped growing at fifteen.”

 

They all laughed and Jimin punished him with a heartfelt kick in the ass. It just made the younger man snicker louder.

“Stop it,” Yoongi mildly cautioned from where he was walking at the back. He was busy checking his phone, but could still see with the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, here comes your knight in shining armor.”

Yoongi looked up.

“You have a problem with that.”

Jungkook, now realizing the danger, hid behind Seokjin.

“No!”

“Good,” Yoongi replied, and for good measures, he walked over to Jimin and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

 

**

“It was a good idea to take tteokbokki.”

“I told you!” Jungkook spoke in a singsong.

“I feel like we’ll regret this when we’ll have to diet,” Hoseok mumbled between a mouthful of food and the other. He hadn’t even finished chewing that he stretched his chopsticks over to the delivery boxes sprayed on the coffee table. 

“We have dancing rehearsal next week,” Taehyung shrugged. “We will burn everything off.”

“I hope so.”

Diet was never a nice occurrence in their dorm. As seven men who genuinely liked to eat and despised starving, having to count calories and cut down meals was somewhat near a torture. At least it was not something that happened frequently, and only for a handful of weeks before a circle of promotion. Yoongi leaned over and took two rice cakes, placing one inside Jimin’s bowl.

 “Thank you.” The man beamed, looking up through his lashes.

Yoongi stared and as soon as he noticed, gulped and looked away. He then nodded to him.

_So smooth, bro._

But it wasn’t entirely his fault.

Jimin was sitting so close he was almost on his lap. And it was not for a lack of space, since the living room was big enough. He guessed Jimin just liked to have him around, to touch him now that they were alone with the members. For the life of him, he honestly couldn’t complain. Since they had come back from the south, from the long weekend in the nature filming the TV show, Yoongi hadn’t wanted to be separated from him either. He was aware there was something growing between them and he was quite certain Jimin knew the same. It was a struggle not to invite him to sleep together, to share a bed even in the dorms, but maybe it would have been too soon. Still, he never slept better than when he shared with the younger man. There was something in having a body so close he could feel their breath on his skin, their lingering smell between the sheets, the small noise as they slept.

It was soothing and Yoongi missed it dearly.

 

They ended up spending more time eating than previously anticipated and as soon as Seokjin noticed how late it was, he yelped and made everyone clean up.

“Tomorrow morning we leave at 9,” Namjoon reminded them as they finished. “Individual rehearsal first and in the afternoon we’ll start with the second part.”

An indolent chorus of replies acknowledged him. 

“Ok then, goodnight,” he clasped hands in front, a tired smile slipping from his face.

The members bid goodnight and walked one by one towards the bathroom or their respective bedrooms, Namjoon stepping a moment outside on the balcony to make a call.

Yoongi inconspicuously lingered in the kitchen, filling up and sipping a glass of water. His eyes briefly followed Jimin’s back as the man finished cleaning up the last boxes of take-out. Then, as the dorm sudden got quiet and no one was around, they both turned and looked at each other. A spark ran through them and in few steps Jimin was in the kitchen, in front of him. 

Yoongi didn’t even know how they started, he realized as the man was now in his personal space, but their little and ridiculous goodnight routine was now an essential part of his day. Since after they had come back to Seoul they had found an excuse to be alone in the same room together every night before sleeping. And if the first time it had been more a coincidence than anything, after that Yoongi had made sure it was not.

He took Jimin’s hand, his little fingers feeling unusually cold in his. He looked up, unable to resist, and met the man’s steady gaze.

“9 is not bad,” he murmured just to say something and stop being a weirdo.

“It’s not,” a soft smile.

They must have looked like two fools, standing there in the kitchen, staring at each other with their hands interlocked, but Yoongi couldn’t have been happier. He couldn’t stop his lips from curling upwards nor could he stop his body from slowly leaning inch by inch closer to Jimin.

He swallowed tensely and his eyes fell on the plump and red mouth in front of him. It looked so sweet and inviting, and so  _damn_  close. He could smell green apples.

He barely noticed another hand grasping the front of his shirt. And then…

“Oh, shit!” someone exclaimed.

Yoongi turned his head so fast he almost gave himself a whiplash.

“Ehm, sorry guys.” Namjoon was awkwardly standing at the kitchen door, phone still clasped tight. He was glancing at both of them with a full-red face, the blush widening on his neck and ears.

Yoongi would have been mad at him if he hadn’t looked so embarrassed and mortified. He just let out a sigh instead.

“ _Hyung_!” Jimin exclaimed from where he had jumped away in fright. He scratched his head and let out a nervous laugh. “No worries! I was going to sleep anyway, so…” 

He ran away without sparing them – or Yoongi – another glance. Yoongi longingly looked at him disappear and then turned to glare at Namjoon.

The man got redder. If that was even possible.

“Did you need anything?”

Namjoon gulped.

“Water?” the answer sounded more like a question.

Yoongi sighed again, and with a shake of his head he turned and filled another glass.

  

**

A week passed fast and Yoongi didn’t even notice. Between rehearsals, photo shoots and other rehearsals in Japanese they all had time only for sleeping and eating. Living an idol life made it really difficult to pursue a relationship, even if Yoongi was lucky enough that at least his love interest was already sharing a house with him. Still, time never seemed enough. Their nightly routine, once so brusquely interrupted by Namjoon, had turned into a couple of murmured words. He would have worried –  _did Jimin really like him? Could he have changed his mind?_  – if the other man hadn’t purposefully looked for him more nights than not. With their anniversary concerts so close they just hadn’t enough energies or time left to say, or do, anything else.   

That didn’t stop Yoongi from continuously, endlessly thinking of Jimin. How could he not? When they weren’t dancing (and  _shit_  he had missed many steps because he was completely lost in his fantasies) they were all nice and styled for the concerts program-book pictures. How could he not think of those muscled arms, those toned legs? And  _fuck_ , those obscenely gorgeous lips…

Yoongi didn’t know if one could die from sexual tension, but he was damn near close. He had never drunk so much water or ran cold showers in his life before. He was like a horny teenager, with the downside that he was almost always in a room full of people. The result was that he had to cross his legs a lot. Just to be sure, ok?

“Are you sleeping?” the warm voice of the hairstylist noonashook him from his thoughts.

Yoongi blinked a couple of times and met her eyes in the mirror in front of him.

“Maybe,” he replied with a shy smile.

He was tired after all. It had been too easy to completely block out all the noise, even if he was in a room full of people. The woman just chuckled and went back to dry his hair in silence, probably to let him rest a couple of minutes more. It would have been nice to close his eyes and catch some zs, but Yoongi opted for staying awake and prepare his mind for yet another photo shoot. He rubbed a hand down his face and yawned. Hell, he needed a giant cup of coffee.

He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his denim jacket. Maybe a couple of levels of Candy Crush would help. Or maybe not, he figured as he lost his first life. Then, a notification and the phone lighted up with a new message. Yoongi abandoned the stupid game and checked the text without thinking twice.

His heart stopped.

“It’s not possible,” he murmured to himself, ringing in his ears.

_Min Yoongi._

“What is not possible?”

He suddenly remembered the noona, but couldn’t stop staring at the phone.

“Nothing,” he tersely replied.

She didn’t say anything, but Yoongi wasn’t sure he would hear the answer anyway. He put the phone back in the pocket with tense, mechanic movements. His hands were shaking.

 _Min Yoongi_.

How was possible that such a simple message could throw him back in that ocean of uncomfortable and unnerving emotions? Blind to the world, he bit his lip hard _._    

 _Yoongi, calm down. Breathe. You need to think this out._ He inhaled and exhaled, as slow as his pacing hearth permitted. He willed his breath to even out and then started analyzing the situation through gritted teeth. It was just a message, probably a mistake. Kim Ki-woong was not a problem anymore. Yoongi was safe, they were all safe. He was stupid if he let such a small matter ruin his day and his newfound good mood.

It was just a scam, nothing to worry about. _Block the number and be done with it._

And so he did.

 

**

The photoshoot was a disaster. It was difficult to channel positive feelings when all he could think about was that stupid fucking message. Maybe he shouldn’t have canceled it. What was he thinking? He should have shown the number to a manager. Did it matter that he probably would have come out looking like a fool? It would have been better than tormenting himself anyway.

A single message and he was reliving all the feelings he had tried to bury deep down, in the dark. No wonder Yoongi couldn’t fake a happy expression to save his career. So he didn’t like any of his pictures and considered passable only the group ones. Still, he didn’t complain and morosely pointed at those he didn’t downright hate. At least those weren’t going on the program book but just on the giant screens for thousands of people to see…

His distress, blatant to everyone, was soon a subject of entertainment within his members. Yoongi couldn’t blame them since they didn’t know the real reason why he was upset. They just thought he really loathed the pictures and that was it. Even Namjoon, who usually was the voice of reason, had a mischievous smile when he mumbled a few words of consolation.

“Come on, Suga. It’s only for a couple of concerts,” the man tried his best as they climbed in the car.

It was late in the afternoon and they were driving back to the company for an early dinner and a night of dance rehearsal. Their mood, aside from Yoongi’s, was quite high. Yoongi didn’t want to change that.

“Remember that milk commercial Seokjin  _hyung_ staged in?” Hoseok butted in. “ _Horrible_. Nothing will ever compare to that. And it was on  _for months_.”

“Ah! Why thank you!” Seokjin screeched from the back of the car, tone deeply sarcastic.

“What I meant is that Yoongi  _hyung_  shouldn’t worry so much.”

“Couldn’t you have used another example?!”

The banter continued until and after they arrived at the company building, and it stopped momentarily only when the music was too loud they couldn’t hear anything else anyway. They danced until they were exhausted and sweat dripped down from their foreheads. When it was time to go back to the dorm, Yoongi was freshly showered and biting at his nails. He couldn’t help but glance at his phone every few seconds. The device was slowly becoming his worst enemy.

He spent the entire trip back steadily staring out of the window and avoiding fidgeting too much. He wanted to portray a serene aura to the others, but he realized he was failing miserably the moment Jimin tried to corner him before their usual goodnight.

“I just have a headache,” he excused himself in a blatant lie. “I need to sleep more.”

The man didn’t look convinced at all but neither he nor anyone else stopped him when he all but ran inside his room. He pretended to sleep when Seokjin entered their bedroom, when the light was turned off and a soft snore began. He stared at the ceiling as he could hear careful steps from the hallway, as voices became quieter and the night darker. He breathed and breathed, tried not to think because as soon as he would he was afraid he would lose his mind.

When the morning came and a hand gently shook his shoulder, Yoongi opened his eyes but hadn’t slept at all. 

 

**

He considered taking a manager aside and spilling his guts, he really thought of it. Then things kept happening and every time he was able to find Hobeom or Seijin by themselves and wanted to open his mouth, another member would join them, a cordi-noona would call, or there was something else more important to do.

Slowly but inexorably, Yoongi convinced himself it was probably better that way. He didn’t want to make people worry or to ruin everyone’s mood for what was certainly a false alarm. Because,  _come on_ , a message with only his name and surname wasn’t exactly so menacing. He was a grown-up too, he didn’t need to go and cry to other men. He didn’t need comfort because there was nothing to be upset about. Ok, the message had woken up feelings he would have preferred to forget, but he still could handle them. He just needed some quietness and all the space he could get.

So he spent his day with a low head, concentrated on the tasks at hand. He would dance when he needed to, drink when a member of the staff handed him some water, and eat when there was food in front of his face.

In retrospect that was probably what did it.

They were hanging out in the dance studio, taking a short break between one song and the other. The members were scattered all around, some resting and some chatting, and the room looked particularly full of backup dancers, a couple of managers and their choreographer Nick. Yoongi was chilling in one corner, with Jimin as his only company. He was the only one he could stand to have around, a bit because Yoongi would never really want to be apart from him, a bit because the man provided the quiet and serene aura he desperately needed. His nerves had been on fire since the day before and his mind rattling, with the annoying result that also his limbs couldn’t stop moving, shaking, readjusting themselves every few seconds. So they were sitting next to each other, a cold bottle of water between them, in nervous silence. Jimin checking his phone, Yoongi staring at nothing and biting his nails.

Then the phone vibrated and Yoongi felt all the blood leave his face. With a dreadful sensation in his chest, a sort of sick premonition, he realized that he had been waiting for that moment all along. He turned the screen up in his hand and the words he read hit him like a train.

_I hope you’ll like it, Min Yoongi._

He had no fucking idea of what that meant, but this time he knew better. He moved to stand up, a hand on the wall to support himself.

“Can I drink your water?”

Yoongi nodded without even thinking, busy in searching out a manager with his eyes. He distractedly saw Jimin leaning over to take the bottle, opening and sipping it, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Oh my god, your water sucks. What did you put inside?” Jimin complained, face crumpled in disgust.

Yoongi frowned.

“It’s new, I didn’t put anything…”

Then something in his brain suddenly snapped. He moved before he could think. He slapped the water away from Jimin’s hands, tossing the bottle on the ground with a loud thump. He didn’t stop to acknowledge the water spilling all over, or the other man’s stunned expression. He grasped him by the wrist and pulled him up.

“Have you lost your mind?” Jimin yelped in his ear, eyes wide. “Let me go!”

But Yoongi didn’t have the time to stop and explain. He dragged an unwilling Jimin across the studio under the perplexed and alarmed stares of everyone else. He fucking knew that sensation,  _he fucking knew it_  from that morning in that elevator and from all those times he had relived it in his memory afterward. He had to listen to it, if his body and mind couldn’t halt him, no one could.

So he ignored Jimin’s protests, he disregarded Namjoon who had ran over to intercept them before they created an even bigger scene. His vision tunneled in bright, vivid colors to one point. He stopped only in front of the astonished face of Hobeom. Because the man knew about the other messages and would understand.

Wouldn’t he?

“He drank something, I don’t know what,” he gasped, voice alien to his ears.

“What are you talking about?” the manager had the sharpness of immediately regarding him with full attention.   

“I received a message.”

The man’s expression morphed into dismay.  

“When?”

Yoongi raised the shaking hand that was holding the phone. Hobeom stepped closer. Namjoom and Jimin also leaned over to read. If they didn’t understand,  _if they thought he was finally going mental_ _…_ Yoongi didn’t know what he would do. But a sharp intake of breath echoed in the room and in his thundering thoughts. The manager turned swiftly to Jimin.

“What did you drink?”

“Yoongi hyung’s water...” came the trembling answer.

“It tasted strange!” Yoongi yelled through his hurried heartbeat, desperate to make his point across. “But it was new, someone handed it to me!” 

The manager turned white in abrupt understanding. Behind him, someone brought a hand over his mouth.

“Who?” another voice asked nearby, Yoongi’s spinning mind couldn’t pin the source.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see!” he nearly cried. They were missing the point! Couldn’t they realize? Jimin needed to go to the hospital!

“Ok,” Hobeom firmly said. He addressed Namjoon: “You stay here. Call the others, explain everything. I’ll take Jimin to the emergency room.”

Those words were like a cold shower, Yoongi couldn’t find enough air to breathe. 

“You believe it could be…” BTS leader started, for then closing his mouth with a clunk.

“Better safe than sorry,” the manager’s gloomy answer.

Before he knew, someone gently pried Jimin’s wrist from his grasp. Yoongi barely had the time to meet the other man’s wild eyes that he was gone behind the door. Then he stood there, staring at the space Jimin had just abandoned, suddenly dizzy.

What would he do…  _damn_! What would he do if something happened to Jimin? And it was his fucking fault,  _his fucking fault_ …

He barely registered people moving and whispering around him, too overwhelmed with whatever the fuck was happening to his body. The first thing he was aware of, through the pain in his chest, was of Seokjin’s face in his blackening field of vision.

“Yoongi, you need to breathe.”

He gasped sharply once, then twice. Obediently. 

“Yeah, like this. Deeply,” a low murmur.

Seokjin’s face got closer but Yoongi could barely see it, he could barely see anything.  

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

He shook his head weakly.  _What the hell was happening to him?_

“Ok. Do you want to sit? Keep breathing.”

He nodded, mostly out of necessity than a real want. His legs were starting to shake too much and he was distantly worrying he might fall or faint.

“Ok.”

No one touched him and still he was lead to a nearby chair, where he blindly let himself collapse. A gentle breeze unexpectedly grazed his skin and he was only aware of the sweat dripping down his face because a cloth appeared to gently wipe his forehead.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Seokjin’s voice spoke from beside him.

“Breathe deeply.”

Yoongi did.

When he looked up again, his vision was slowly getting back to focus. One by one things got clearer, as lights gradually being switched on in his mind. He was aware of Hoseok, a firm expression painting his face and a towel in his hands softly wiping his neck. He saw one of his favorite coordi- _noonas_ , waving a rice paper fan at him. Behind her, Taehyung and Jungkook stood beside a manager like marble statues, arms crossed over their chests and thin, pressed lips.

Seokjin was crouched at his side, worry and determination painted together on his face. Namjoon was nowhere to be seen, as well as all the other people who had previously filled up the room.

He met Seokjin’s steady gaze, breath slowly going back under control, and suddenly felt emptied of everything, exhausted to the core.

“That was something,” he rasped, in an unsuccessful attempt at lightening the mood. The older man only raised one eyebrow in reply and handed him a bag of Skittles.

“Eat this.”

Yoongi did as instructed, mostly because he had already attracted too much attention for one day and didn’t want to argue. He chomped at the candies dutifully, under his members’ careful eyes. When he appeared to have satisfied Seokjin’s request, the man stood up and talked. 

“We should go,” and then addressing him directly: “Are you up for a walk?”

“Of course,” Yoongi puffed.

Still, when he stood both Hoseok and Seokjin hovered by, as they really weren’t trusting his words. They weren’t even that wrong, to be honest, because Yoongi did feel weak as a newborn calf, shaking limbs and all. He still had a shadow of pain in his chest too, and he feared a minimal thing could trigger it back. So Yoongi tried carefully not to think, he concentrated on his breaths, on the steps before him. He walked out of the studio, aware that the others were following. The halls were strangely deserted as they walked, arriving quickly at the back entrance where a car was already waiting for them.

Yoongi climbed up, prioritizing his fake calm to everything else. He didn’t register anything; not the engine starting nor the way some of the members sat together with him. He stared outside as the manager drove them back. Back to the dorm, of course, he realized with a pang in the chest. Any other day he thought it would be fine, he could still consider that space his home because the other kids were there too, he wasn’t alone. The company was hastily planning their moving, so it was also a matter of time before they finally and ultimately left that space of nightmares.

But now it felt too soon, too raw.

Because Namjoon was not with them, and Jimin.

 _Jimin…_   

A hand grasped his arm and Yoongi was instantaneously brought back to the car, to Taehyung’s eyes observing him from under his curls. The man didn’t talk, just kept on holding him, even when they arrived at their dorm building, even when they stepped outside the car and walked through the entrance.

If anything, his grasp became tighter and tighter as the elevator brought them to their floor. Only when Yoongi was inside, shoes off and suddenly aimless, the hand holding him morphed in an arm around his shoulders. Taehyung guided to the living room and on the couch. He gently pushed him, so that he was lying down, taking all the sofa for himself. 

Yoongi must have been still very out of it because he hadn’t had the time to protest the manhandling. Before he knew it, he was lost to a deep sleep.

  

**

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep and yet his brain protested as he woke up in a dark room.

Not completely dark, he noticed after blinking the tiredness from his eyes. There was one light and it was Namjoon’s phone screen. The man was sitting at his feet, arms wrapped around his torso and looking like he was trying to take as less space as possible. He didn’t glance at him and probably didn’t see he was awake until Yoongi moved into a sitting position.

Yoongi felt hungover for fuck’s sake, and he hadn’t even drunk. Along with it, there was a hint of embarrassment because -  _hello?_  - he had had a giant complete meltdown in the middle of dance rehearsal. However, the biggest and most important part of him was still focused on only one name, pained over it, his heart kept from crumbling by that one last, thin string. Yoongi knew that if their leader was there, alone and waiting, it was because he had to hand over some news. He feared hearing it. He would die if he heard those words. He would. Nothing would stop him from dying but  _God, please no_.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Namjoon quietly called.

Yoongi took the breath he didn’t have and met the man’s gaze halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, a cliffhanger!  
> [Tumblr](https://meglioseoravai.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people!  
> Beware! There's some drinking in this chapter. 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

 

 

 

** BTS Open Up About Recent Struggles and Aftermath of Having a Stalker **

BTS is undoubtedly the most trending K-pop group out there, as their Top Social Artist Award at the Billboard Music Awards can also demonstrate. With two upcoming concerts and a new album scheduled to drop in September, it’s safe to say their days must be packed with fervent activities and preparation. They still managed to find the time to talk with ELLE.com, and opened up about what has been filling the news in the last few months.

_Let me first begin by how we, and I bet all your fans, are grateful and proud that you decided to speak up about stardom issues like stalking. Not many people are aware of the struggles music artists have to go through in their careers._

_Rap Monster_ : It’s a far more common problem than expected. We decided together it was something we wanted to address publicly, as soon as matters were settled.

 _Jin_ : We have a term in Korean,  _sasaeng_. They are fans who are too obsessed with their idols. They follow them, enter into their houses and so on. It is pretty common. The only difference with what happened to us is that he [Kim Ki-woong] had a knife.

 

 _What would you like to say to these_ sasaeng, _if you could talk directly with them?_

 _Jungkook_ : There should be a limit. You can’t follow me, enter my house and into my life without permission. I’m entitled to my own privacy.

 _Hoseok_ : I feel like [with Kim Ki-woong] we really reached a point where we need to stop and rethink what fame can or can’t bring. You can’t tell me I should expect stalkers because I’m famous.

 _Jimin_ : Many artists are under great mental and physical stress due to some fans’ lack of discretion. These fans should think of how they are hurting their idols with their behavior. Is taking a picture or a video worth it?

 

_What do you think should change in K-pop to avoid other similar issues?_

_V_ : The problem is that there is a lot of communication coming and going between artists and fans. It gives the illusion of knowing the other person like a friend, even if that’s not true. We should try to remember that social media and television only show one side, not everything. 

 _Suga_ : I also would like to break down the word “idol”. Yes, we are idols but we are also humans with needs, emotions and imperfections. I wish more people would understand it.  

 

**[Read More…]**

**

 

“Hyung,” Here it was. “Jimin is fine.” 

 He open and close his eyes, startled.

“What?”

Namjoon laid a hand on his thigh.

“Whatever it was in that water, it was not poisonous. Jimin is ok.”

Yoongi felt as a huge weight was suddenly off his shoulders. He exhaled and let himself lean on the back of the sofa.

“He will be home soon.” Yoongi nodded, still too overwhelmed by relief. Namjoon didn’t seem to mind the lack of reaction. He got up and smiled down at him. “I’m going to sleep now.”

He gave Yoongi one last pat on the leg and left without wasting another word. Yoongi decided to wait for Jimin. He couldn’t do otherwise. It was late in the night, almost closer to morning, and the dorm was quiet and full of shadows when the door squeaked and a lonely figure appeared at the doorway.

Yoongi jumped to his feet and walked the few steps dividing them. Then he stopped. Jimin looked pale and tired in front of him and mildly surprised by seeing someone still up. He was also still unbelievably gorgeous.  _If only could Yoongi stretch his hand_ , his fervent mind was telling him,  _he could touch him. He could feel his warmth, take him in his arms_.

He inhaled and halted, unable to move, as staring and immobile as the man in front of him. They appeared as frozen in time, but nothing could have been more wrong. His heart was clenching in pain.

 _Jimin_. Jimin with red and glossy lips –  _had he just licked them?_ – with white skin and dark circles painting his tired face. The gentle curve of his almond, black, sweet eyes… Yoongi was fucked. Totally, irremediably fucked. He couldn’t think anymore.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jimin called, breaking the pregnant silence. “I’m fine, really…”

Yoongi looked at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He was so close,  _so close_. He wanted to touch him so much,  _so fucking much_  his hand moved without his consent.

“I’m glad,” he murmured, heart bursting. He grazed the skin between neck and shoulder. Soft and warm, he thought as his fingertips slowly moved up the neck, curling around a pulsing vein. “I was so worried…”

“Yoongi…” his crackling voice.

Yoongi’s fingers reached the marbled jaw, the hint of a growing beard, the trembling chin. He could not stop, for the life of his,  _he couldn’t stop_. He could distantly hear soft gasps and a quickened breath but he wasn’t sure which belonged to whom.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Jimin trembled under his hands, as Yoongi leisurely moved to encircle him with an arm, fingers still tracing the plump lines of an open mouth. He couldn’t stop now.

“Please, don’t stop me,” he pleaded. And muted a sob with his mouth.  

Kissing him was what he had dreamt, and more. It was warmth and sweetness, two hands grasping his hair as it grew hotter and desperate. Jimin was a pliable body in his arms, twisting and pushing with the strength of a man. Jimin wanted it too, he realized exhilarated. Yoongi could feel it in the teeth grazing his lips, in the tongue curving in his mouth. He hugged him tighter, cradling the back of his head in his open palm.

He loved,  _dear god if he loved_ … Then Jimin took a step back, suddenly turning his face to one side.

“ _Hyung_ , we can’t…” he said.

“What?”

“Yoongi.”

Jimin took another step, successfully dislodging himself from his hold. Yoongi felt cold, all of sudden.

“Why?” the only question he could ask.

“I can’t,” Jimin bit his lips, elusive eyes not meeting his. “Now… I can’t.” Another breath. “I’m sorry.”

Without other words, he left.

 

**

 

The morning after found Yoongi still on the sofa. Namjoon woke him up with a shake and a big cup of fuming coffee.

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmured, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes. Namjoon looked at him from where he was standing in the middle of the living room.

“Are you hungover?”

Yoongi glanced at the bottle of whiskey on the table. Last night it had been considerably fuller.

“No,” he lied.

Namjoon didn’t insist. He sighed.

“Fine. We have our schedule starting in one hour.”

“We still have a schedule?” Yoongi asked, mildly surprised. Considering what had happened to Jimin he had presumed everything would have been canceled.

“We do,” Namjoon replied, understanding immediately. “Jimin does not. He will stay home.”

“Oh.”

“It’s only a short meeting for next week concert,” the man explained. “It’s about security, obviously, and to see if we need to change something.”

Yoongi nodded. With one pat on his shoulder, Namjoon went back to waking up the members. Yoongi checked the time. Ten o’clock. He had managed to sleep five hours, at least. He hadn’t been certain he could.

He had ruined everything, he had thought glass after glass. Jimin would never look him in the eyes again. His hopes, so high for a moment last night, had been crushed like a worthless ant. That’s what he deserved, after all. He knew he was playing with fire, he knew how much was at stake. And now, for reasons he still couldn’t grasp, he had lost him anyway.

He was certain of it when, going out from a quick bathroom break, he bumped on Jimin. The kid looked like hell.

“Jimin.”

“Yoongi  _hyung_.”

Head low, hair all over the face.

“Are you ok?” he asked because he worried.

“Yes, yes,  _hyung_. Yes,” Jimin crossed his arms over the chest, appearing even smaller than he naturally was. “Can I go to the bathroom, please?”

Yoongi stepped aside to let him pass. Jimin ran inside and only left a vague perfume of green apples behind.

 

**

 

“Fuck…”

“What?” Taehyung asked him.  

They were heading back to their vans after the meeting, bodyguards closing claustrophobically around them, and Yoongi could hear the piercing shouts of fans from where they were lurking outside. The meeting had been long and tiring and, not so surprisingly, concentrated more on their artistic performance than on the bottle accident. Yoongi would have protested –  _hey there, police won’t tell us yet, but that water might have been poisoned and we’re still talking about the lineup?_  – but had given up before even trying. What was the point? They all probably thought he was going mental, anyway. Weren’t they? Yoongi surely had some doubts himself.

Nevertheless, no more schedule up for the day, not even a little dance practice. The staff probably needed to figure out how to handle the new, rediscovered pressure of having someone maybe wishing to kill them all. The members needed to rest and calm down. Yoongi needed another bottle of whiskey.

He caught Taehyung’s raised eyebrow. 

“I was just thinking,” he answered.

“About what?”

“About…”

The message from the stalker, after they all thought it was all finished. The overwhelming fear of knowing Jimin at the hospital. Or was he thinking about how he had loved those lips, and that mouth and that skin and those hands in the worst of all moments? Or about how much now hurt to even remember…

“Is this about Jimin?” Taehyung interrupted his mental breakdown.

“Jimin?” he asked, partly surprised and partly caught red-handed.

“You know…” Taehyung said. “You just need to talk with him.”

“What?”

“You just need to talk with him,” Taehyung repeated, more slowly. He was also staring at Yoongi like he needed to get his point across. Yoongi was speechless.

“Talk with him,” the kid insisted.

“Ok,” he managed.

“Good!” Taehyung dropped an arm over his shoulder. Serious expression gone in a heartbeat, the kid was smiling from ear to ear again. “I’m excited to go home. I heard Seokjin  _hyung_  wants to cook tonight.”

Indeed, Seokjin cooked. Yoongi washed down all the food with an adequate amount of beer, courtesy of the managers, and when his  _hyung_  finally left him alone in the room, he promptly switched to whiskey. Only a glass or two, this time. He didn’t need to be drunk and being stared down by Namjoon in the morning was annoying as hell.

So he nursed a cold drink and tried to think, slightly tipsy. He had underestimated the members again, of that he was sure. Whatever they knew, it was anyway more than what he had suspected. Taehyung at least knew of their “thing”. Not surprising, since he was Jimin’s best friend and all. Still, a bit embarrassing. Or not. It could end up being quite useful. The kid had just told him to confront Jimin, so there was some hope there. Probably. Maybe.

What the hell was he doing anyway? There with a bottle of liquor, obsessing about Jimin? But he couldn’t think about anything else, even if he had got his phone sequestered by concerned managers, even if he was sure the kids had slept like shit and were trying to act natural only for his sake. And for Jimin’s.

He could only think of that kiss, of how he had probably ruined everything and he wasn’t even certain why.  _Maybe kissing him at that moment had not been the best idea_ , the sanest part of his mind offered. Yoongi squashed that thought down. He couldn’t trust himself. Not when it had been his fault that the stalker or whoever was had got so close to them. Again. This time there was no way to escape the blame.

Yoongi felt pain at the chest, as his heart was being squeezed by an invisible hand. He knew he had lost something he couldn’t quantify. A piece of his soul, the last hope, the sunray that woke him every morning. He lost all of that every time Jimin wouldn’t meet his eyes. And Yoongi wished he could drink all the bottle instead. 

  

**

 

Jimin was never alone, Jimin was avoiding him like the plague. The kid must have had some incredible hidden talent because they were spending 24/7 together and Yoongi could never find him by himself. He would almost believe the other man hated him if not for Taehyung’s and, surprisingly, Jungkook’s encouragements.

“You need patience,  _hyung_ ,” Jungkook said, as Jimin ran away after another dance practice. Yoongi didn’t know what to believe. He hadn’t even had the time to murmur a word.

After another couple of days, Yoongi gave up on the upfront approach. He wasn’t good at it anyway. Even if Jimin was willing to talk with him -  _something that he was obviously not_  - Yoongi had a high percentage of ruining everything anyway. He needed to rely on other communication tools.

So he spent his days practicing for their concerts and the nights awake, trying to modify that same song from ages ago and say whatever he wanted to say. He chose that song, God only knew why but it reminded him of Jimin. Maybe because they had spent hours and hours, side by side listening to that piece. Maybe because it was something to turn right, to repair and grow, just like his relationship with the man.

Fuck it. It was a mess,  _he_  was a mess but still working. He was used to sleepless nights anyway and his dear whiskey was keeping him company.

  

**

 

It was the day before their debut anniversary concert when he understood. He was listening to the song on repeat, trying to figure out what was still missing. He liked it well enough, to be honest, but it was not perfect. It was not worthy of Jimin and of his feelings and that was annoying him beyond compare. In that moment, though, with sunglasses on to hide his bloodshot eyes and his furtive glances, in that moment he finally got it. The song missed a voice,  _Jimin’s voice_ , to be complete. He had no more chances, then, no more things to do. He had to make him listen to the song even if he had to pin him to a chair.

 

**

 

“Suga, when is the last time you slept. Uhm?” a coordi-noona asked him. “It will be hard to disguise with makeup.”

At that, all members turned to look at him. It was early morning of the day of their concert. They were waiting for the next phase of rehearsal sitting on the stage of Seoul Olympic Stadium. The empty arena was still dark but its coolness was somewhat soothing to Yoongi. He was even thinking of lying down and nap maybe a little.

“Sorry, noona,” he replied obediently, and at that, she regarded him with a mix of surprise and affection.

“I was just joking!”

When she left, Yoongi went back to surreptitiously glance at the lonely figure of Jimin. Talking before a big event was not a good idea, they were already quite anxious without adding extra stress, but Yoongi didn’t like to wait. He had watched from the distance for far too much time. He wanted to fix it, say sorry. Beg. Kneel on his knees. Everything it would take the other man to meet his eyes again, to go back to his normal happy, smiling self. Even if the only thing Yoongi would die to do again, just for one other single time, was to kiss those lips. To feel Jimin’s body under his hands, the warmth and the pulsing skin, the caught breath and desperate sighs.

Those thoughts hurt too much.

“I forgot the phone charger in the dressing room.”

He swiftly looked up. Jimin was standing in front of their little group, head bowed down.

“I’ll be back soon,” the man said.

“We are starting again in ten minutes,” Namjoon reminded him and Jimin curtly nodded, before walking backstage. He had just walked five or six steps when Yoongi realized that that could be his chance. Ten minutes were not nearly enough, but he could make it work. Without stalling any longer, he showed rare agility and jumped to his feet, surprising Hoseok who was half-lying on him.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, going to the toilet,” he explained without stopping. He didn’t even care he was following Jimin in the opposite direction of the washrooms. The kids could think whatever they wanted. He broke in a jog, almost colliding with one sound technician. When he reached the younger man he was slightly panting and met with a suspicious glance.

“ _Hyung_ , the toilet is on the other side.”

“I know. I want to talk to you.”

Jimin looked at him with tense shoulders and lips in a thin line.

“Ok,” he replied at last. “But not here.”

Yoongi let go a painful breath and followed Jimin down the long, gloomy corridor to the dressing room. His heart was beating painfully in the chest but he was too busy thinking about what to say to notice. When they arrived he opened the door first. There, Yoongi’s mind registered things slowly, one detail after the other. The first thing he noticed was the woman in front of him, then that the waiting room was strangely empty. The third thing he saw was the gun pointed at his head.

“Close the door,  _Min Yoongi_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

“Enter, both of you. Close the door.”

Yoongi slowly obeyed. He stared at the gun pointed at him and then moved his eyes up, frozen.

“Finally just the two of us,” the woman behind the gun drawled, wide white eyes. She was in her mid-thirties, messy brown hair. With a pang in his heart, Yoongi recognized in her. She was a coordi-noona who had sporadically been with them in the last couple of months. He distinctly remembered her in the radio waiting room, the same day Ki-woong tried to kill him. Then at the farm, calling them over to start shooting again.

Shit.

“Noona… noona, what are you doing?” Jimin’s voice was trembling behind him. When the woman pointed his gun at him, Yoongi stepped in front without thinking.

“Don’t move!” she barked, aiming now at Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi stilled, heart thundering. What should he do? What the fuck was happening? His mind was spinning, unclear. Frantic.

“Noona,” he swallowed. “ Why are you doing this? Let us go.”

She laughed.

“Noona?” she said, mouth curving in an ugly line. “Do you even know my name, Min Yoongi?”

“No,” he answered, stomach sinking.

Her laugh became hysterical.

“I worked for you for how many years, and you don’t know?” she sneered. Yoongi stayed silent, sweating cold. He didn’t know what she was talking about. He only remembered seeing her twice!

“You know, I wish you had opened that door months ago, it would have made everything easier,” she sighed, shaking her head, steady grip on the gun. “I even told Ki-woong not to touch the others. I don’t care about them.”

She looked him in the eyes. 

“Just you, Min Yoongi.”

“Then let him go,” Yoongi blurted before he could think. If there was a way out, even for only one of them…

“No!” Jimin shouted.

“Ok,” the woman shrugged.

“Let him go now…” Yoongi insisted, blood pulsing in his ears. “…unharmed.”

It took all his strength to ignore Jimin’s despairing cries.

“Hyung!”

“I will not stop him.” She was still pointing the gun at Yoongi’s chest. She looked behind him, at Jimin. “But he should run before I change my mind.”

There was no other way. Jimin could go, Jimin could run. And maybe, maybe come back with someone before it was too late.

“Go,” Yoongi’s strangled voice. He pushed the kid with one arm, without turning or daring to move a centimeter more. “Go.”

“Yoongi!” Jimin cried.

“Please… please go,” he begged, but Jimin wasn’t moving. 

The woman curled her lips with icy hatred.

“Ok then,” she smirked, “I will kill you both.”

And before Yoongi could realize he had breathed his last breath, before he could ask why, why, there was a loud crash, a heavy weight on him and a thunderous black pain. After that, nothing more.

 

**

 

Yoongi woke up, which was surprising. He slowly came back to consciousness with someone calling from afar.

“Min-sshi, Min-sshi…”

He was numb and confused, limbs heavy, and he was feeling so strangely lethargic that even the smallest movements required immense focus. His eyelids flickered and he was immediately halted by a flame of pain in the skull. There was too much light, too much noise and too much pain.

“Aw, shit,” he slurred, as his body failed him.

“Min-sshi, can you hear me?” the voice insisted. “Can you open your eyes?” 

He blinked a couple of times. Slowly, a white ceiling met his gaze, then the blurry face of a young woman, curved above him. Behind her, another woman in scrubs. He squinted at them.

“Min-sshi, do you remember what happened?”

“What?” he moaned, confused. He tried to move his body, but his arms and legs felt numb, just as much as his brain. A gentle hand pressed over his chest.

“Please don’t try to sit up,” the woman - the doctor? - told him. She was wearing a white coat, and Yoongi could distantly hear a beeping noise somewhere. He briefly closed his eyes, pressing them shut. When he opened them again, his vision had gotten slightly better. Now, instead of blurry colors, there were black spots and stars everywhere. He groaned.

“Min-sshi,” the doctor called him again. “Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital?” he slurred, trying to focus his thoughts.

“Yes, very good,” she smiled. “Do you remember why you are here?”

He shook his head. Even the small movement brought a spasm of nausea. He scowled in pain.

“You have a concussion. It’s not serious but we need to keep you in observation for a while.” A concussion? Did he fall during dance practice or something? That would have been a first, but he guessed it was not that impossible.

“In the meanwhile, you should rest as much as you can,” the doctor was continuing, looking down at him. “Nausea and a mild headache should be normal, but please inform us of any other symptoms. Also, please stay still as much as you can.”

“Thank you,” he answered instead with a dry throat. The doctor smiled again.

“Nurse Kim will assist you if you need anything,” she gestured at the woman beside her. “I’ll check on you later. If now you would excuse me…”

The doctor quickly bowed and left the room, leaving Yoongi with nurse Kim.

 “You have some visitors if you feel up to it,” the woman said while checking his IV bag.

“Ok.” It was probably a manager, or even one of the kids if they didn’t have any schedule. The nurse opened the door and swiftly left, clearing the entrance for two very unexpected people.

“Mom, dad! What are you doing here?” Yoongi mumbled.

“Oh my baby, where should we be?” His mom, tears in her eyes, was on his side in a heartbeat. His dad arrived second, just after closing the door behind him. He walked over and placed a hand on Yoongi’s forearm.

“We took the first flight we could find,”  he answered soberly.

In the instant of silence that followed, Yoongi observed one and then the other, trying his hardest not to move his neck. They looked worse for wear. His mother had been crying, he could see it in the red puffy eyes and trembling fingers. His father seemed calmer, but Yoongi knew him well enough to notice the tired curve of his mouth.

“Am I going to die or something?” he asked. The doctor had seemed honest and optimist enough, but his parents were telling all other stories.

“No!” his mother quickly denied. “No, sweetie, of course not.”

She took his hand in her smaller ones. They reminded him of Jimin’s, so small but so precious and…

Holy shit!

He jumped on the bed, startling his parents and himself too, and causing a white, hot flaring pain up his spine and directly in his brain.

“Fuck!” he shouted, clasping his head in both hands. His parents reacted in full panic mode.

“Call the doctor!”

“No wait,” Yoongi gritted his teeth, effectively stopping his father in mid-step. “I’m fine, I am,” he lied.

Jimin, oh shit, Jimin…

“Where are the members?” he asked between his clenched teeth. He was still hurting, but breathing slowly helped a little. “Where is Jimin?”

His parents looked a mix of shocked and worried. His dad was the first one to regain his composure.

“He’s outside,” he replied.

Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat.

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, Yoongi. He’s fine.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He sagged in the bed, suddenly out of energies. His mother bent over him, slowly petting his hair away from his sweaty brow.

“Are you sure you don’t need the doctor?”

“Yes,” he swallowed. He wanted a cup of water, he wanted to understand what the hell had happened. But first, he needed to make sure. He needed to see with his own eyes, to touch with his own hands.

“I need Jimin,” he said before he could think of a better way to phrase it. “I want to see him,” he clarified because his parents were sending him stranger and stranger looks.

“Ok baby, but you can have only two visitors…”

“I can wait outside,” his father interrupted. He exchanged a look with his wife and walked stiffly to the door.

“Dad… ” Yoongi called after him, suddenly a bit guilty. The man turned and shared a small, private smile.

“Don’t worry. I understand,” he said and left the room.

His mom was still fussing over him, and Yoongi was still trying to regain his breath when the doorknob moved and a familiar, white and crumpled face peeked in.

“Jimin...” Yoongi murmured, strangled voice. His eyes blurred.

“Hyung!”

In two steps he was all over him, draped on his chest, hugging him as he could. He was shaking all over and Yoongi couldn’t see his face, but he was in his arms. Alive. They stayed like that for a while. Yoongi pretending like he was not crying, staring at the ceiling and with one arm over Jimin’s shoulders. And the man on his chest, silent, with big tears coming down the cheeks. They were so concentrated in one another that Yoongi didn’t even notice when his mom left and let the two of them alone.

“She won’t mind, don’t worry,” Jimin reassured him after a while. He had stopped crying, and his expression looked a tiny bit better, even if still tired as hell. He was now sitting on the small empty space on the bed, just beside his hip. Yoongi sneaked an arm around the man’s waist, feeling his warmth through the thin sweater. He knew he probably shouldn’t, he knew they hadn’t talked and everything was a mess, but he couldn’t help it. They had almost died together.

“It’s on the news. Actually, it’s everywhere.”

He looked down at his hand, at how it was curled around the soft fabric of Jimin’s clothes.

“What happened?” he asked, dry throat. “Why are we not dead?”

Jimin inspired.

“I only know what I saw,” he said, carefully laying an arm over the one hugging him. He then laughed, hesitant, mirthless. “I don’t know where to begin,” he shot a glance to the door. “I don’t even know how long I can stay. The others are probably waiting…”

“It’s ok,” Yoongi replied, keeping him close. “It’s ok. Just tell me something so I won’t go crazy.”

Jimin smiled a tiny smile. 

“We were saved by security,” he said, eyes down on their linked arms. “They got in just in time and had to push you out of the way. You hit your head.” He sent him a playful, light gaze. “Who knew your hard head would save your life, uhm?”

Yoongi chuckled quietly but soon regretted it as the pain hit his head again. He grimaced.

“You should rest,” the younger man was observing him, brow furrowed. He moved to stand up but Yoongi grabbed him.

“Jimin…”

Their eyes met, Jimin’s black as night and tinted with exhaustion.

“I still want to talk,” Yoongi laid his heart bare. “About us.”

Something in the man’s face softened.

“I know and I’m sorry if…” he murmured. “If…”

“It’s ok,” Yoongi interrupted. Because it was. His mind was still confused, but he still could remember how the other man had refused to leave the changing room, how they had stayed together till the end. How they would have died in the same way. Everything else paled in comparison. Jimin answered with half of a smile, leaning over Yoongi with his sweet perfume of green apple shampoo. Yoongi swallowed, heart racing in his chest as the man got closer, skins almost touching. He stopped breathing as he received the smallest and most tender kiss on the cheek.

“We will talk, I promise. When you’re out of here.” A warm murmur.

“Ok,” his strangled voice said.

“Go back to sleep.”

Yeah, because that was going to come easily now.

 

**

 

They hadn’t let the other members come and visit. The reason was that Yoongi needed rest and sleep, but still. It would have felt nice to see everyone, especially since they had waited and worried for him to wake up for hours. His mom was the only one permitted inside, while his dad waited for Yoongi’s brother to arrive, driving all the way to Seoul at full speed like the crazy guy he was.

Everyone else was kept outside, even the managers. Yoongi got a few words from them through his parents.

“They say you should rest, of course. You don’t have to worry about anything else,” his mom said in a murmur. Between her soothing voice and the gentle hand in his hair, it was really difficult to stay awake. “Your fans will miss you but they will understand.”

His fans? His mind tried to process the information, but it was difficult when all it wanted was to shut down and say goodbye, assholes. Then a thought surfaced and he suddenly remembered.

“The concert.”

He had totally forgotten.

“Yes,” his mom answered. “It will be fine. It will be ok. The most important thing is your health.”

Yoongi was not convinced, and a sudden pang of guilt worked his way through his feelings. They all had worked so hard for their concerts and he would miss one of them. There would be a hole in their dances with his shape and his members would have to work double to cover for him.

“They don’t mind,” his mother answered, confusing him more. Was Yoongi thinking aloud? Then maybe he had hit the head harder than he thought. “They’re happy you’re not hurt. And you still have the Tokyo concert.”

Oh right. He had forgotten about that too, he realized as his eyelids slowly fluttered. His brain refused to operate any longer. He was so damn tired.

“Then sleep, baby. Everyone will be here when you wake up.”

So he slept.

 

**

 

When he woke up again, someone was sitting on his bed.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Hoseok’s voice greeted him.

Yoongi rambled something confused and lifted one hand to cover himself from the white morning light. When he didn’t feel like his head would explode from too much exposure, he opened one eye. Four of his six members were currently in his hospital room, sitting or standing around and now all staring silently at him. His family was nowhere to be seen.

“Uhm,” he mumbled again. He was damn thirsty, he realized. He tried to lift himself to a seated position but soon gave up as he still didn’t have the strength or the will to struggle through the motions.

“Hey, hyung.” Jungkook reached over and helped him, easing him back against the pillows. After he was comfortably sitting, he handed Yoongi a cool glass of water and bless him for it. Yoongi sipped it then gave the glass back, hand slightly shaking. He sighed, tired even if he had just woken up. He felt like an old grandpa in front of his kids.

“Hey,” he said, for then immediately pausing. He frowned. “Where are Namjoon and Seokjin?”   

“They were here one hour ago,” Hoseok answered, moving his butt on the bed to better face him. “They left to discuss things.”

Discuss. Things. Where did he hear that before? Never mind, he didn’t even want to know. He glanced at the other occupants of the room. While Hoseok had taken possession of his bed and Jungkook had remained standing at his side, Taehyung was sitting on a lonely chair with an exhausted smile on his face. Jimin was near the window, and Yoongi could barely see him through the backlight. 

“How was the concert?” he asked. He had the weird impression that they were patiently waiting for him to do or say something. Also, they looked dead on their feet. They would have been sleeping and recharging their energies on a normal morning after a big concert. Instead, here they were, barely awake.   

“It was great!” Hoseok replied again, enthusiasm back in his voice. “Of course everyone missed you. They were chanting your name like crazy! We have many videos to show you, actually.”

He was already taking out the phone but Taehyung stopped him with a light kick in the shin.

“Let’s watch them later,” the man suggested. “It’s not good for his head.”

“My head is fine.”

Taehyung turned to him.

“The doctor said no strenuous activities.”

Watching videos on a phone could hardly be considered a strenuous activity, but Yoongi decided to focus on something else.

“For how long?” he asked frowning. No one had really said anything before.

“Until they are certain you are fine.”

“And like a week after that, too,” Jimin spoke for the first time.

Yoongi glanced at him and wished the other man would move closer, or at least where he could look at him without getting blind.

“So how about Tokyo?”

The kids shrugged helplessly. Well. Yoongi could only hope there was nothing too serious with his head, then. They would have told him before, though, right?

“So will anyone explain what the fuck happened?” Yoongi asked after a minute of complete silence. The question shifted the atmosphere in the room. From relaxed and weary, he observed as his members straightened up and tensed. Yoongi briefly glanced at each of them, for then lingering at their youngest. He was certain he could make him spill if he only insisted a little bit.

Brief alarm crossed Jungkook’s eyes.

“I don’t know, you just woke up,” he said, hands up. “Maybe it’s better if you rest a bit more.”

“I’m fine.”

“Shouldn’t we call a doctor to be certain?”

“How about we call the doctor after we talk, uhm?” Yoongi answered, not unkindly. He raised an eyebrow at him. However, he didn’t miss when Jungkook exchanged a meaningful look with the others. He also noticed when the maknae finally gave up and sighed.

“We don’t know much more than you,” the guy admitted, slump shoulders.

“Still better than nothing.”

“Ok, then,” Jungkook took a long breath. “The woman with the gun, as you understood she is -was - a BigHit employee. She was working in PR and then was transferred with us some months ago.”

Yes, he vaguely remembered seeing her from time to time. He had never really paid attention to her, though.

“The police suspected there was an accomplice since the beginning because Kim had too many info on us. They were investigating inside the company.”

He nodded, leaning his head back and slowly taking in the news. He didn’t know what to think if he had to feel mad because no one had told him. A little part of him also wondered if knowing would have really changed anything.  

“So they asked the personnel and that woman, Gil…”

Gil. Yoongi clenched his jaw. Here the name of their stalker.

“She was reported for erratic behavior,” Jungkook licked his lips, then continued. “The police investigated but they didn’t find any evidence.”

“Hobeom hyung said they still moved her to another department, away from us,” Taehyung interjected. “They didn’t want to fire her because she has been working with BigHit since forever.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok nodded. “She probably handed you a bottle of water and no one thought twice about it.”

The bottle of water! Yoongi hesitantly glimpsed at Jimin, but the man was looking at his feet.

“And yesterday…” He turned back to Jungkook, determined despite his headache to find out everything before the doctor - or worse, his mother – came back.

“Yesterday she got inside with other members of the staff, so she didn’t pass through the metal detector. Security didn’t immediately notice she wasn’t supposed to be there, too. They were more concerned by strangers.”

“But someone noticed her walking inside the changing room,” Taehyung added. “They asked security to check and they did…”

“They did,” Yoongi murmured to himself. Thank God, they did.

“Just in time…” Hoseok said looking into the distance, probably thinking of what could have happened otherwise.

“Did she…” Yoongi halted, hesitant. Then, toughening up: “Did she say why?”

Because he viscerally needed to know, but the more he was waiting to ask the more he was wondering if it was really a good idea to understand. He had reflected on it before, even when he just thought someone was sending his letters written in blood and not planning a murder. Why would people hate him so much? Did he really inspire such hatred?

Few more glances were exchanged, then Jimin grimaced.

“She made no sense,” he said. “She was delirious when the security brought her away. Said that you never looked at her, never loved her.”

“She is not mentally stable,” Jungkook added.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if that helped or not. Was it better to blame her craziness? Wouldn’t it have been easier if there had been a more logical reason?

“Now that is finished, you should just concentrate on getting better,” Hoseok interrupted his thoughts. He patted Yoongi’s leg through the thin blanket.

“We already thought it was finished once.” he couldn’t help but argue, and immediately regretted it. We could see their faces darkening and closing, their expressions mirroring his own doubts. Then Jimin finally moved away from the window. He walked the few steps separating them and placed a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed.

“This time is for real,” he met his eyes, intense.

And yet, it wasn’t easy to accept. Everything inside Yoongi was still tight and screamed of danger. He couldn’t relax there in the hospital, with his family and friends always with him. How harder would it be back out there, in the crowd? By himself. Resetting his status to normal, smiling at the public without fear?

Yoongi was very hesitant when he looked back at Jimin, not because he didn’t trust the other man, but because he knew he was very far from being fine. Even if Kim and Gil were out of the way, even if they were now safe.   

He still nodded, imposing a weak smile on his lips. Then, he took a breath and he turned to glance at the others.

“Did you bring me food?”

 

**

 

They did bring him food. Yoongi nipped at chocolate and candies until his headache became too harsh to handle. He was dozing when the members decided to leave, not before giving him a last hug and a quiet reassurance they would come back as soon as possible. When Yoongi opened his eyes hours later, feeling slightly better than he had the other times, he was told he could finally go home. 

“You’ll have to take it easy for the next week or so, no strenuous activities, and keep your situation monitored,” the doctor said as she was going through the folder in her hands. “It will be normal to experience some headache and fatigue, but if the symptoms worsen you’ll have to check in with us as soon as possible.”

“Can I take a flight?” the only thing Yoongi wanted to know.

“I don’t see why not,” she shrugged. “You could take one today if you needed to. Still, I suggest plenty of rest and relax when you’ll arrive at your destination. I understand you’re an idol and that you have a concert coming up soon, am I correct?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Well, maybe your company should find another way for you to participate without exerting your body too much.”

The doctor glanced sideways at Hobeom, as if somewhat uncertain Yoongi wouldn’t be sent to work 24/7 immediately after being discharged.

“It won’t be a problem,” the manager was quick enough to reassure everyone in the room. He also met Min mom’s fierce stare. “We will take good care of him.”

The doctor smiled again and closed the medical folder with a plop.

“Well, then I salute you and wish you a speedy recovery, Min-sshi.”

“Thank you.”

She left with one last bow.

 

**

 

It felt very good to walk out of the hospital into the warm sunny day. Yoongi had a tightening ring around the head but his mood improved immensely as he decided to bring his family and manager out for a quick, discreet lunch. They ate in a small, old restaurant near the hospital. Then his brother took his car to drive their parents back home because it was pointless for them to stay in Seoul. Yoongi just needed to rest, and in few days BTS had to fly to Tokyo anyway.

It was still with a small pain in the chest that he hugged his dad and brother goodbye. He left his mother as the last one. She was always the most difficult to say goodbye to. His brother was already loading the car with their luggage, his dad was on the sidewalk softly chatting with Hobeom, when he hugged and kissed her on the cheek. 

“Let me say something before you go,”  she kept him at arms distance, fingers holding him. “What you went through was horrible.”

“Mom…”

“Let me finish,” she took no shit. “I wish I could have helped you more. I’m your mother and it pains me to see you suffer. And still, you faced it, you became stronger.” She took a trembling breath. “I’m proud of you.”

She looked him in the eyes, not crying as she could be, but with a sort of determined expression that left Yoongi more touched than sad. Her last words, spoken through the open window of his brother’s car, were addressed to Hobeom.

“Please take care of him.”

Then they left.

 

**

 

His manager was immovable and insisted for Yoongi to sleep the day away in his bed. Yoongi couldn’t complain since his headache was getting more and more annoying.

“Where are the others?” he still asked as they drove back to the dorm. Hobeom glanced at him from the rearview mirror.

“They are rehearsing. Later they will prepare the pre-concert conference. Namjoon and Seokjin have already figured out most of it, but they need everyone’s input.”

That was probably why he still hadn’t seen the two men, Yoongi guessed.

“Don’t make that face,” Hobeom shot him an amused smile, completely misunderstanding Yoongi’s feelings. “You have all the time to share your thoughts and add whatever you want after today.” 

When they arrived at the dorm building and the car was parked, it was with a bit of apprehension that Yoongi saw some people standing close to the entrance.

“Nothing to worry about,” Hobeom said as he opened the door for him. He helped Yoongi out of the car with a hand firmly gripping his arm. Not that he needed it, but Yoongi felt somewhat better as the older man didn’t leave him. The grip became stronger as they walked towards the building.

Yoongi kept his eyes down and his steps fast, absolutely trying to avoid the paparazzi or whoever was crowding the sidewalk. Then, surprised, he noticed that no one was actually approaching them. There was a definite space all around. It was also strangely quiet. So he raised his head and the view in front of him would have made him tear up even on a stronger day. There were girls, women, and some guys silently standing some meters away. They were looking at him, but no one was speaking. Hands over mouths, tears striking down cheeks, signs held high – _Get well soon, We love you, We are with you_. It felt incredibly surreal, it filled his heart with warmth and gratitude. It made his knees go weak.

Later in the dorm, Hobeom left him on the living room couch to digest the touching experience. While Yoongi rested, the man moved around, checking things in their rooms, looking inside the kitchen. Then, apparently satisfied with whatever he was looking at, he came back to him.

“If everything is settled, I’ll go,” he said to Yoongi. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours to bring some food.”

“Thank you.”

Hobeom smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t pout, Suga. Think of it as a vacation. You have all the dorm by yourself.”

Yoongi hadn’t even noticed he was pouting. And he didn’t care about an empty apartment. Especially that empty apartment.

“I can’t do anything.”

“I’ve always thought you preferred to sleep over anything else.”

“Touché,” he shrugged.

The older man laughed and after a last squeeze on his forearm, turned and walked to the entrance.

“Your medication is on the kitchen table,” he lastly said, bending to wear his shoes. “Take them after eating.”

Then he opened the door, waved at Yoongi one last time and stepped outside, leaving him alone.

Yoongi sighed and thought. He couldn’t work. He couldn’t watch television or read. He didn’t feel like sleeping, still too unsettled. So he took the phone Hobeom had given him and remembered a number by heart. He made a call.

“Are you home?” Jimin’s hushed and warm voice immediately greeted him.

“Yes,” he replied, smiling despite himself.

“Good. Did you eat?”

“I ate with my parents.”

“Oh ok. Rest well, then. I’ll see you tonight.”

A brief call, but he could understand since they were so busy. But Jimin didn’t have the time to hung up, someone stopped him first.

“Is that Yoongi?”

“Yes? Hyung, wait…”

“Min Yoongi,” a new voice. Seokjin said his name as he was preventively scolding him. “You’re convalescent. Do you know what that means?”

Yoongi didn’t bother to answer.

“I know you and let me tell you that working at your computer doesn’t equal resting,” the man continued, getting worked up all by himself. “You have to sleep. No lights, no loud music, nothing too tiring! Do you understand?”

Yoongi sighed, mostly out of fond exasperation.

“Yes, hyung.”

“Good! See you later then.”

Then the older man suddenly closed the call, leaving Yoongi speechless and mildly perplexed. 

 

**

 

Staying in the dorm alone was weird. It felt strange, like Yoongi was not supposed to be there, like he was not supposed to be alone. He napped and napped good, one moment looking out the window, the moment after waking up to the ceiling of his room. The sun was setting so late those days, painting his vision orange with long warming rays. Though, he noticed at one point that the sky was darker and tinted of stormy clouds at the edges. It promised rain in the evening, or even a thunderstorm if the strong wind shaking the curtains was of any indication. Yoongi spent hours looking at those same curtains being swayed and lost track of time. He knew he was still getting better and that a concussion was no joke. Still, he was slightly concerned he was losing his afternoon away in dreamless sleep and mindless contemplation of the walls around him.

Later, when he walked to the kitchen for a glass of water, he realized someone had been in the dorm only because there was a new note on the table.

_Food in the fridge. Take your pills._ Hobeom had been in and checked on him and Yoongi hadn’t even woken up.

He shrugged as he opened the takeaway box of juk. He didn’t even sit and just stared at the city landscape outside the kitchen window. He ate numbly, spoon after spoon. He wasn’t particularly hungry and yet he finished the bland oatmeal, washed the paper box in the sink and gulped down his pills with a glass of cool orange juice.

The strange feeling of detachment didn’t leave him when he went back to bed, or when he woke up again as the sun was finally setting. He considered texting Jimin, his mom or anyone else but then decided against it. He didn’t need to cry on someone’s shoulder, he just needed to rest and go back to his normal self.

Maybe, he wondered absently, it was because he was alone in that dorm he hated. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been by himself for so long he had forgotten how to exist. Or perhaps his mind was slowly coming to terms with all the shitty stuff that had been happening recently. How many traumas could one face before going crazy anyway? No wonder his brain was trying to halt everything, giving him a blank state of awareness until it was certain Yoongi could handle it. Because of one thing he was sure at that point, he couldn’t deal with it alone, nor when he was left by himself in a space that seven or more men would usually share and felt that unsettled.

He was sick of being exhausted, too. Of feeling like an alien in his own skin, of stuff happening out of his control, of being the designed victim of a hate crime he couldn’t for the life of his understand.

He laid down on his bed again, mute and muted, and in the same way he closed his eyes and slept. This time, though, he dreamt.

He was in an elevator, alone and waiting. Closed in those narrow four walls, grey and black shadows growing all around him. He knew from the heaviness in his heart that something was coming for him. A presence rising silently behind his back, almost grazing him with long, curved claws. Yoongi couldn’t turn, couldn’t move. Immobilized by fear, heart pumping in his chest, he didn’t dare to look back and meet black wide eyes glowering at him, piercing his skull. He could only wait for his death, imagine a deep hole of infinite torture, and the monster slowly consuming him.

Then the elevator’s doors creaked open in a long, dimly lit hall. The dorm just a few steps away.

His legs moved so slow, sluggish and out of control. He panted and struggled, grasping at the walls with his nails, and still when he was out of the elevator the malign presence hadn’t left. It tailed him, towering behind, almost engulfing him in its hold. Leaving him without breath. 

When he arrived at the dorm, feet dragging and heavy, the door was already slightly ajar. Yoongi nudged it with one hand and found behind it an empty room and the subdued figure of Jimin. Standing immobile, red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks.

A black, dense shadow leaned over Yoongi’s shoulder. Long, sharp, white teeth in a too large mouth. Sneering.  

“Kill him,” it said. And Yoongi, desperate, trembling uncontrollably and frightened with every fiber of his soul, hadn’t the strength to fight. He raised his arm and pointed one shaking finger at Jimin.

_I’m sorry_ , he thought. _It’s all my fault_ , he cried as the monster leaped over Jimin and swallowed him whole. He didn’t move as screams and painful sobs were engulfed in silence. He didn’t dare look away, as the shadow grew larger and reached the ceiling. Immense. He stood and trembled as he realized with a dreadful feeling in his stomach what was going to happen next. He didn’t blink and didn’t breath, immovable in overwhelming fear when the thick shadow slowly turned to face him. Bottomless black voids staring back at him.

“Now you, Min Yoongi.”

A sudden, loud explosion.  The shaking of glass.  Yoongi jumped up on the bed, panting. In the distance, the fading rumble of a thunder. With that, the dream faded away.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

He pressed his hands hard on the eyes, shaking like a leaf. Outside, another lightning split the sky into broken pieces. Immediately after, a growing roar. He slowly got aware of his surrounding, of the t-shirt soaked with sweat and plastered to his skin.

He was in his bed, in the dorm. The room was brightened only by the city lights and by the occasional lightning in the sky. The air was hot and damp with humidity and smelled of rain. Yoongi had just had a fucking nightmare and had been crying, as his hands were wet with tears.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat. When he felt better, he reached over to the nightstand for the phone and was momentarily blinded by its light. 12:34, it said. The kids were not back yet. Seokjin was not there and the dorm was too quiet.

He passed a hand on his face and let out a trembling sigh. He dialed a number before he could stop himself. It only needed a couple of rings before his call was received.

“Hey,” Jimin’s voice was like a balm to his strained senses. “Everything alright? You should be sleeping.”

The noise in the background was fading as if the other man was walking away from whatever he had been doing.

“Yeah. I just woke up,” Yoongi wet his lips and halted.

He didn’t want to sound petulant and ask when they would all be back. Or worse, be like a child with his parents when they were away for too long. And yet, if it had been strange to be alone that afternoon, now it was beyond uncomfortable. Was it because of the fucked up dream that had stirred too many kinds of emotions, was it because of the suffocating air of the thunderstorm that still had to break. Yoongi didn’t want to be by himself one minute longer. His skin crawled at the thought of being left in that dorm alone for one hour more, of going back to sleep in the dark and dream again. Fuck no, he would rather stay awake and work and suffer through another excruciating migraine later.

Was it too much to ask for them to come back? Or even for more of those dreamless, numb naps?

“Uhm?” Jimin probed after a beat of silence. Yoongi shook himself from his sinking thoughts.

“Just wondering where you were. It’s late.”

“Oh! We will be home soon. We’re almost finished.”

A breath of relief.

“Ok.”

“Don’t wait for us, go back to sleep.”

“Sure,” Yoongi swallowed.

“Goodnight,” Jimin’s voice reached him again after another pause. It spoke so tenderly, tone deeper and warm, that Yoongi felt something loosening in his chest. 

“Goodnight,” he answered just as fondly, picturing a small private smile gracing Jimin’s lips.

That was the image that accompanied him as the call ended and he stood up. He walked through the hall and reached another room just as the first drops of rain started to fall. No way he could go back to sleep in his bed, he was thinking, but if something could help it was surely to be surrounded by something as calming, close and intimate as Jimin’s green apple perfume. He breathed with full lungs as he slowly let himself lie down on the cool and soft sheets of the other man’s bed. He hugged the pillow at the chest and was lulled to sleep by the gentle white noise of rain on cement.

He barely opened one eye as, some time later, a light came into the room from the hall. Soft steps could be heard, familiar to his ears as his own.

“He’s here,” someone said. As Yoongi’s mind was starting to stir, a hand laid to gently rest on his head.

“No, it’s ok,” a soothing murmur. “Go back to sleep.”

And Yoongi did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed from Mature to Explicit. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

 

** BTS Suga Taken To Hospital Following Altercation With Second Stalker **

Emergency services were called to Seoul Olympic Stadium today after BTS rapper Suga sustained a mild concussion following an altercation with a second, female stalker. BigHit posted a statement on its official Twitter account to reassure fans about Suga’s condition, also informing that he will be not participating in...

_ Read More _

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****

** New Details Released About BTS’ Second Stalker **

In today’s news release, police confirmed that long-time Big Hit employee Gil Hae-Won, 37, has connections with Kim Ki-woong, the BTS male stalker arrested in March for arson and assault. Gil confessed she had a relationship with Kiwoong in the past and had plotted with him the assassination of idol Min Yoongi…   

_ Read More _

-

 

 

**

Yoongi woke as the sky was turning grey. The breeze was gentle on his skin, and the dorm quiet and peaceful in the pale lights of dawn. He woke up to Jimin, curled on the bed beside him, so close he could feel his breath on the cheek.  Yoongi spent exactly five minutes staring at him, gazing at the long eyelashes, at the small frown between the eyes, at the locks falling delicately on the white skin. At the shoulders, moving in deep breaths. Then he looked away.

He extricated himself from the bed sheets. With extreme care, he padded up to the door and out to the bathroom. His second stop was the kitchen, where he drank some orange juice and took his medicines. After all that, it was still five in the morning and Yoongi had nothing to do. He could hear the distant sound of Namjoon snoring, the tickling of the clock on the wall.

 

He took no more than a second to turn back on his heels and walk quietly back in Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung's room. The kids were still deeply asleep, Taehyung with his neck bent in an unsightly angle. Yoongi climbed in the bed and slowly, _slowly_ let himself sink beside Jimin. For all his efforts, the man still stirred curling and unfastening in a long intake of breath.

 

“Where did you go?” he murmured, voice heavy with sleep and one hand reaching out.

 

Yoongi grasped it and interlaced their fingers together between them. 

 

“To drink,” he whispered back.

 

“Uhmm,” Jimin’s eyes fluttered but remained closed.

 

Yoongi felt his heart melt at the sight. He inched closer to share the warmth of their bodies, a hand in his own as he dozed off.

 

 

**

Yoongi didn’t know he would ever say it but he was quite tired of napping. And yet, between medication,  years of accumulated lost sleep and the last exhausting few weeks, he was drowsy all the time. He would have gladly accepted days of uninterrupted sleep if it hadn’t felt so wrong. His members were busy in preparation, all BigHit was in disarray trying to handle the press and organizing the last concert. The managers were split in half between the dorm and the rest of BTS, driving around like crazy, leaving Yoongi with an increasing sense of guilt and distress.

He was supposed to rest but it was difficult when everyone around him was at such a hectic pace. So he didn't protest when the kids left in the early morning, but he sure did when Seijin arrived a couple of hours later to check on him.

 

“You’re supposed to rest,” the man objected.

 

“I can’t sleep anymore.”

 

“You can just relax, you know.”

 

“I can do that in the company, too.”

 

“There will be loud music.”

 

Yoongi hadn’t thought of that.

 

“I will leave if it bothers me,” he conceded.

 

He could find a sofa where to lie down, if necessary. He had done the same many times before when the night was too long but he hadn't felt like going home.

Seijin sighed, pinched the nose with his fingers and looked at the ceiling. 

 

“Fine,” he finally agreed.

 

They were at BigHit in half an hour, Yoongi nervously playing with the hem of his t-shirt. If in the dorm he had felt strangely out of place, the company gave him a completely different surge of feelings. Immediately as he stepped inside, he was met with trainees, staff members and even Hoon- _shi_ , the security guard. They all had a pat on the back for him, a few gentle words and warm smiles. It seemed like going back home, in Daegu, where everyone had missed him dearly and wanted to hug, touch, share, and laugh. Yoongi felt warm inside, but also super embarrassed and awkward under all the attention. There was a tiny part of him, ugly and twisted, that despised the fuss. He didn’t need it, he didn’t want it. He wasn’t a survivor, he rejected the pity. He preferred to forget. But every little glance in his direction and every murmured word made him remember. Like scratches on a wound, keeping it open and bloody.

 

So it was with a sigh of relief that he left all the people behind to find his members. He found them practicing, the music blaring in a well-lit room. They didn’t notice him at first as he walked inside, then Jungkook saw him in the mirror and halted so suddenly Namjoon bumped into him.

 

“ _Hyung_!” he shouted.

 

The music stopped as all they circled him, big smiles on their faces, careful hands grazing him. Namjoon hugged him tight and long, Seokjin cradled him at the chest as he was a little doll. Yoongi let them, quietly heartened by it too. He hadn’t seen the two of them since, well… _since before_ and he had missed them. It almost felt like a century had passed. If he thought about it, it seemed like another life, one that had died with the flaring of a gun and a mad woman behind it.

 

“What are you doing up and about?” Taehyung asked after gulping down half of his water.

 

Yoongi shrugged.

 

“I was bored,” he answered. “And I wanted to see how things were going.”

 

 “Things are going well,” Namjoon said for everyone. “It will be a good concert.”

 

“Of course it will be!” Hoseok exclaimed, hands up in the air.

 

They chatted a bit more, mostly about the songs lineup and other technicalities, when Namjoon checked the clock. Then they all went back to their practice without complaints. Yoongi stepped aside planning to stay, in the end not even lasting one hour before the music got too loud for his brain. He sneaked out as the dance instructor was talking, and roamed the halls for a while. Then he saw his studio and quietly got in. 

It was there, after missing lunch and after another couple of hours in the afternoon, that Seijin found him again.

 

“Here you’re hiding,” the man said, as he stepped inside.

 

Yoongi blinked at the sudden light. He covered his eyes with one arm, and shifted unhappily on the leather sofa he was napping on. He should have guessed his peace would be short-lived. 

 

“Are you going to come out anytime soon?” there was a hint of amusement in the manager’s voice.

 

Yoongi squinted at him.

 

“Not if I have to.”

 

“Bang Si-hyuk wants to see you.”

 

He groaned, unwillingly sitting up, and passed a hand through his hair in a tentative effort to smooth them down. He rubbed his eyes. His mind felt filled up to the brim by cotton balls. He could barely form his own name, the last thing he wanted was to meet his boss.

 

“Why?” he asked, rasping throat.

 

The other man shifted on his feet.

 

“There are some things you might want to hear.”

 

That perked Yoongi’s curiosity. He raised both eyebrows as he imagined what the manager was talking about. Probably bad, _bad things_ he would regret knowing. That never stopped him anyway. So he stood up and stretched to gain some feeling back to his limbs.

When the manager accompanied him out of the studio, he was yawning but slightly more alert. They walked along the halls down to Bang’s private office. Then Seijin knocked on the door. A gruff voice immediately answered and Yoongi was ushered inside, by himself.

 

Bang Si-hyuk was sitting at his big desk, talking with the two police officers Yoongi was already familiar with. They greeted him and his boss pointed at the third, unoccupied chair in front of him. Yoongi’s mood was souring moment by moment.

 

“Min- _sshi_ , we are glad to see you’re fine,” one officer said.

 

Yoongi nodded sharply, unsure of how to answer. Thankfully, Bang Si-hyuk didn’t waste time in silence.

 

“I called you because the gentlemen here need your deposition,” he said, turning on his chair and prompting Yoongi with a small gesture of his hand.  

 

So Yoongi told them what he could remember, which was actually not that much.

 

“We believe Gil knew the fiasco with the water bottle would have led us to her again. That’s why she was so careless,” the tall policeman explained once Yoongi stopped talking.

 

“What do you mean, the fiasco with the water bottle?”

 

“The water was poisoned with glue,” the man answered him.  

 

Yoongi clasped the armrests with shaking fingers, feeling suddenly faint.

He had known all along, hadn’t he? He had known since that first second after reading the message. He still had hoped, though, that his intuition had missed the mark. That he was exaggerating, that his feelings of impending doom were just delusions. Being regarded as crazy was way better than Jimin being poisoned, risking his life and surviving through not one but two attempted murders. But nothing had ever been easy in their lives, especially not in the last few months.

 

“How…” his voice broke.

 

He cleared it, in an attempt of getting his composure back. He took a deep breath and then he continued:

 

“How is it possible? Jimin _was fine_.”

 

“Fortunately Park- _sshi_ ingested too little to cause any damage.”

 

“Gill’s biggest mistake was to use a substance unpleasant to the taste. Park- _sshi_ stopped drinking immediately, as probably everyone else would have done,” the other investigator stepped in. “We initially thought it was a ploy to unsettle you without actually hurting you, but her psychological profile indicates otherwise. At that time she was already highly irrational and impulsive. She undoubtedly chose something she had near, without further research. Her illogical behavior only escalated when she decided to wait for you and Park- _sshi_ in the changing room.”

 

Yoongi let himself collapse against the back of the chair. It was a lot to take in.

 

 “What about the phone calls, the messages? Or the letters?” he heard himself asking.

 

"In the beginning, Gill obtained your phone number from the company. Easily enough, since she was working in close contact with you. After Kiwoong’s arrest, she bribed an employee of the telephone company.”

 

Yoongi nodded numbly.

 

“The letters, including the one sent with your hair, were all sent from minor accomplices.”

 

That shook Yoongi out of his torpor.

 

_Other people?_

 

The tall man apparently saw his shaken expression, and quickly added:

 

“Gill and Kiwoong gave us names. We already have all the people involved.”    

 

Yoongi brought a hand to his pulsing temple, the beginning of a headache that would soon transform into a full-blown migraine. 

 

"Even the one who tore my hair out in Narita?" he asked, voice getting weaker and weaker.

 

“I assure you, Min- _sshi_ , that we have all people responsible. We interrogated each one of them multiple times, separately. We have no doubt, this time, that there are no loose ends.”

 

Yoongi didn’t answer and didn’t meet the policeman’s eyes. Hadn’t he heard the same thing before? Hadn’t they all gone long ways to reassure him that he was safe and protected, for then getting Jimin poisoned and both of them nearly killed? They were aware there was a second stalker, Jungkook had told him so. They conducted the investigations and Yoongi, as usual, had been left in the dark. He had been manipulated into believing they were safe, that they could go back to their unique but still acceptable lives. He had tried to go on, to overcome his haunting flashbacks, his deep-seated fears. He had tried ways to cope. Then he had been thrown again in hell, mercilessly.

Yoongi had all the reasons to be angry at the way the investigation had been conducted. With the policemen and Bang Si-hyuk for not being transparent since the beginning. They were trying to protect him and to give him a sort of normalcy, another voice piped in his mind. Yoongi squashed it to death. He was not a kid to be coddled. He was a man, who could face whatever came at him.

 

“Did they also tell you why they did it?” he asked, not raising his eyes.

 

He heard the shift of fabric against fabric, in something he guessed was a half-hearted shrug.

 

“Gill is highly incoherent and delusional, but still very persuasive. Ki-woong helped her in exchange for a generous amount of money. He also exhibited signs of sociopathy. The other accomplices were given a monetary compensation,” an intake of breath, and then: “Gill and Ki-woong are mentally ill. The reasons for their crimes were the delusions they created in their minds.”  

 

The black leather chair in Yoongi’s peripheral vision shuffled, and the next thing he heard was his boss awkwardly clearing his voice.

 

“I think I owe you an apology, Suga,” Bang said.

 

Yoongi immediately looked up, taken again by surprise.

 

“I personally voiced for Gill,” the man continued. “I couldn’t believe it could be her, even if there were signs. She had been with us for so long…”

 

He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

 

Later, when he was alone by himself, Yoongi didn’t know if he really could accept those apologies. Looking at the contrite expression of his boss, he had felt something twisting in his chest. A bit of compassion, a tang of anger. He couldn’t make up his mind and emotions, and maybe it was even too early to try. Too fast, too close.

So Yoongi should have gone to meet with his members but decided against it. He sat in a dark, empty room, mirrors reflecting his lonely image. He needed a moment by himself, not necessarily to think, but more to let his thoughts wander without censors. So he let himself sit in the dark room. There, curled on the cold floor, he could hate as much as he wanted. He could cry if he really couldn't avoid it. He could try to let go of his emotions, to discern between them, to find the roots of anxieties and frustrations. He spent hours there, instead of resting or checking in with others, and left only when his shoulders unfastened and his breath deepened out.

 

 

**

That night they had dinner just the seven of them. Jungkook and Hoseok had chosen a restaurant, a small but private family-owned place in their neighborhood. They had one room all for them, a second entrance to come and go as they pleased without anyone noticing, and finally all the space and time to just be together without staff, press, fans and so on. So they indulged in the barbecue like never before.

It felt relaxing, and even if Yoongi couldn't still drink alcohol because of his medications, the other kids had no trouble consuming _soju_ and beers for him too. No wonder the conversation, from innocuous it was, took a weird turn.

 

“I would fuck Jungkook - because sorry? His pelvic moves?”

 

Groans of awkward protest were heard all around the room at Taehyung’s unsolicited opinion. The kid continued anyway.

 

“I would marry Seokjin _hyung_ because he can cook."

 

“Not because I’m the most handsome?” the aforementioned man questioned, a large smile on his face.

 

He was ignored.

 

“Or maybe Namjoon _hyung_? No, Namjoon _hyung_ breaks too many things…” Taehyung murmured to himself, for then continuing with his initial loud voice. “So anyway! Marry Seokjin _hyung_. And date… well, Yoongi _hyung_?” 

 

Yoongi raised both eyebrows at that. Taehyung was the first one to choose to date him in that silly, little game they were playing of _marry, fuck and kill_. Well, aside from the fact that they had changed _kill_ with _date_ because they had had enough of attempted murders. 

 

“And why is that?” he asked, knowing well he shouldn’t have.

 

He was met with a sly, foreshadowing smile.

 

“Well, first!” Taehyung raised one finger, effectively silencing the room.

 

“First!” he then repeated. “You give the best hugs.”

 

Yoongi nodded. He could accept that.

 

“Second! You look like you are a good cuddler!”

 

Ok.

 

Well, he had shared a bed with Jimin the night before. But hadn’t they shared many other times before? Why this time it felt like Taehyung was purposefully teasing him?

 

So Yoongi’s cheeks turned hot, but he still forced his face into a no-giving-a-fuck expression.

 

“I am,” he answered. 

 

But Taehyung’s smile only widened, not deterred in the slightest, sending shivers down Yoongi’s spine.

 

“Well, third! Someone told me…” Taehyung stopped in a sadistic pause of suspense.

 

All the members tensed in anticipation. Yoongi saw his end in the shining, sly eyes of his _dongsaeng_.

 

The younger man took a breath and then:

 

“… you kiss like a god!”

 

 _There,_ the bastard.

 

Chaos erupted. Uncontrollable laughers from Hoseok, hyena shrieking from  Seokjin. Jungkook, hands over ears to protect his never-found innocence. Namjoon, still quietly drinking his beer as he hadn’t understood. Jimin,  a bright blush creeping over his face, neck, and ears.

 

Yoongi, immobile,  met his eyes, embarrassed at the laugh but not particularly at being outed.

 

“Well, I thank that someone, then,” he replied, trying to keep his cool.

 

Shit, Jimin had said he kissed like a god.

 

He kept his eyes on the man, and _oh boy_ , wasn’t he happy he did. Because if Jimin had been red before, he was now nearing purple and looked ready to burst.

 

More laughers ensued as the man decided to vent his frustrations on Taehyung, leaning over the table to punch him repeatedly on the arm. 

 

“Thanks for nothing!”

 

Taehyung only laughed harder.

 

 

**

Taehyung didn’t torture Jimin more than that. No one really did. They left Yoongi and Jimin quietly by themselves, happy to change the topic and laugh about something, or someone else. At the end of the night, Yoongi helped more than one too drunk _dongsaeng_ out of the restaurant and up Hobeom’s car. When it was time to go to sleep, he felt grateful that he couldn’t drink. He could distantly hear someone being ill in the toilet and, _ick_ , didn’t he hate being sick and hangover.

He checked in Namjoon and Jungkook’s room if both the men were alive. Then he peeked in Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung’s and walked inside as he saw the light was still on and the kids were just getting ready to sleep, messy pajamas and messy hair.

 

“ _Hyung_ , are you sleeping with us again?” Hoseok asked, angelic face. He just missed a halo.

 

"Haha,” Yoongi let out the fakest laugh of all because he had already been teased enough for one night.

 

Yet, when he turned to leave, a voice stopped him.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Jimin, now up and about, grasped at his sleeve.

 

“To sleep.”

 

The younger man didn’t let him go, looked down, licked his lips, and then glanced at him from under his eyelashes.

 

“Stay,” he murmured.

 

And how could he refuse that?

 

Yoongi only nodded, momentarily speechless. Whipped. He let himself be lead on Jimin’s bed. He pointedly ignored the two pairs of eyes peeking at them and then looking away. He was too busy following Jimin, feeling his hands on the arms, gently pushing him down on the mattress. He reminded himself of a child put to bed by his parents, or of a lover laying down beside another body. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

But the younger man, of course, just curled all around him and promptly fell asleep. Slightly snoring in his ear, prohibiting any kind of movement.

 

“Should I turn off the lights?” Hoseok asked after a while.

 

“Yeah,” a sigh.

 

And the lights were turned off.

 

 

**

Yoongi blinked his eyes open at the pale yellow light of a sunny morning. As the day before, he was laying down on his back, squeezed against the wall. The only difference, though, was that the other man curled beside him was now awake and looking at him.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey,” Jimin smiled.

 

Yoongi stretched his legs out on the bed, hands clasped together on the chest. He wanted to give away the image of perfect nonchalance, but the effect was immediately ruined as his eyes swept over Jimin’s features. It was hard keeping a straight face when the man he had kissed – and that he desperately wanted to kiss again – was regarding him with such a playful expression.

Yoongi licked his chapped lips, and since it was starting to get hot he kicked the sheets from his legs.

 

“You like my bed a lot, don’t you?” Jimin murmured.

 

Propped over one elbow, he was looking down at Yoongi with a hint of a smile. Yoongi would have liked to remind Jimin he had been the one begging him to stay, but it was too early in the morning and his brain wouldn’t operate. So he swallowed, trying to will down whatever emotion was emerging in his groins.

 

 “It’s comfortable,” he simply replied.

 

 “Uhm uhm.”

 

A gentle, cool breeze blew in from the open window. Jimin’s curls waved in it, framing the intense, liquid eyes in a mesmerizing painting. Yoongi reached a hand to brush the locks back in their rightful place, but the wind kept blowing and he soon gave up. So the hand slowly caressed his way down, on the cheek, over smiling lips.

 

Jimin was gazing at him from above, a careful and attentive expression, and that stare combined with the pressing urge to touch, to graze the skin of his face reminded Yoongi of the night after the hospital. Of how he had craved, fought and lost.

 

Yoongi caressed the cheek with a thumb one last time, then dropped the hand down back on his chest. Collected as much as he could be.

 

“We need to talk.” 

 

 Something shifted and closed in Jimin’s expression.

 

“I don’t think now is a good time,” the man murmured back.

 

 As to better explain himself, he glanced at the two sleeping forms in the room.

 

 “When, then?”

 

 Yoongi didn’t like to wait.

 

“After the concert. I just need…” Jimin’s voice suddenly broke, his smile curved down. “I need more time.”

 

 Yoongi should have asked for what, why the man needed more time? Why from happy he had seemed, he was now diverting his eyes away, shifting to put distance between them?

Yoongi should have asked for many things because the silence between them was excruciating. Because while they would talk and say meaningless things, joke around, distract themselves, they were avoiding all that was important. Yoongi was a pessimist in nature. He knew Jimin was attracted to him but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted something more.

 

But while a few days had passed, his head still hurt and everything still felt surreal and fragile, Yoongi would know what to say. He would tell the other man everything he had kept secret for so long. He didn’t need time to digest his feelings, because Jimin was the only thing left clear in his mind. He was the anchor, the only light in the confusion he was spinning in. 

And yet, he couldn’t pretend the same clarity from the other. He couldn’t pretend anything at all.

 

 So Yoongi nodded and couldn’t help feeling more and more hopeless.

 

 

**

While the kids had the last, ultimate rehearsal before leaving for Japan, the dance choreographers figured out a way for Yoongi to be on stage and participate without dancing. The solution was quite easy, and something they had already tried when Jimin was hurt during Wings Tour. Yoongi would just have to sit on a side, rap, look around, sing again and so on. He was feeling quite conflicted about it. On one hand, he was excited that he would be allowed to sit for the duration of an entire concert. The part of him that rejoiced in staying still was completely satisfied for once. On the other hand, he didn't like offering a performance that was less than perfect. He had already missed his first-anniversary concert and while he was grateful for being alive to be in the second, it was still quite disappointing that he had to sit during it.

However, he didn't have many choices in that regard.

 

After discussing with the choreographers and the managers, he was brought away from the dancing studio and into a smaller room where their Japanese teacher proceeded into hammering an entire page of new sentences into his brain.

 

 “Since you can’t dance, you could try speaking a bit more,” the nice little woman explained.

 

Yoongi was obedient but frankly distracted, and the teacher too courteous to insist. Every time he babbled something she nodded encouragingly, but would only hum at the worst mistakes. He went out from that lesson more confused than anything else, and quickly crumpled the paper where he had written his notes in the pocket of his jeans.   

 

That night, as the kids were slowly preparing their luggage, Yoongi found himself sitting in the living room, on the couch that was now like a second home for him. No, _seriously_. That couch was going in his room in the new apartment. There were too many memories inscribed in it, and it was actually quite comfortable too.

So he sat on the couch and rehearsed his broken Japanese, taking out the crumpled piece of paper with his notes. He was reading the lines over and over to help his memory when he walked into the kitchen for a drink. He still couldn't touch alcohol, but in all honesty he wasn’t sure if he minded. He grabbed a cup of milk chocolate and was walking back again to the living room when another body collided with him. 

 

A good amount of the chocolate milk ended up on his t-shirt, the rest dropped on the floor. Yoongi looked offended at the brown liquid. 

 

“Sorry!” Jimin exclaimed.

 

“Don’t worry…” Yoongi sighed, grasping the first kitchen towel nearby. He bent over and lazily cleaned the dirtied floor.

 

Another pair of hands joined him.

 

“No, really… wait, don’t move.”

 

From the floor where they were mopping around, Jimin’s hands raised and took some more paper towel and slowly, painfully patted at Yoongi’s soaked t-shirt. Yoongi didn’t dare to move, bent as he was, like there was a wild deer in front of him instead of the man he longed for.

 

Everything smelled like chocolate.

 

“I’m always so clumsy,” Jimin muttered to himself.

 

But he was so careful and patient with him. Yoongi was so damned lost. Then the other man raised his eyes, met his, and inspired long as he was struggling to collect himself.

 

“I told you, it’s fine,” Yoongi found his voice back.

 

A frown, so willful.

 

“But is it?”

 

Yoongi looked searchingly into the other’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know, Jimin. What are you talking about?”

 

The man dropped his hands, dropped the paper towel. He took a step back and scoffed, wildly, confusingly.

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” he exclaimed, as he pulled at his own hair in pure frustration.

 

And that, Yoongi couldn’t accept.

 

"Hey, hey. It's fine," he said because even if he wasn't _fine_ he hated seeing the younger man so desperate, so confused.  “I said it before and I still believe it. Whatever you want, whatever you think. Remember?”

 

He would close the door to his hopes and crash his dreams if that meant the other’s happiness. He would give up everything, as Jimin had been ready to do in front of a gun. Because they still loved each other, even if Yoongi maybe a bit more, maybe in a different way.

 

Then suddenly Jimin’s lips were on his and they were kissing. And kissing, and kissing again, until they were both breathless and leaning on each other.

 

“What are we doing?” Yoongi murmured, something shifting uncomfortably in his chest.

 

He looked at Jimin’s half-closed eyes, at his trembling lips. He grasped at his hands and squeezed the little fingers, but still couldn’t find an answer. The man, shaking figure and hunched shoulders, seemed as lost as he was.

 

“I don’t know,” Jimin answered, breath warming Yoongi’s cheek. “I just can’t…”

 

“Can’t what?”

 

But Jimin didn’t answer. He took his hand, lead him into the bathroom and closed the door with a slam. Uncaring, unconcerned. Then he kissed him instead, just as desperate, just as strong, clinging onto him, pulling him against his body. Yoongi couldn’t complain because he had wanted it for months. And what did it matter if it kind of broke his heart? He had Jimin for himself, in his arms, mouth against mouth for a little longer. His heart could have just imploded, and it would have been fine.

So he curled over the younger man, taking him closer, licking his lips and then delving inside his mouth. They would have never stopped if there hadn’t been a loud knock on the door.

 

“I seriously need to pee,” Jungkook’s voice reached their ears.

 

Yoongi let go as slowly as he could, lingering one last time in a small, sweet peck on the lips. Then another knock shock the door and they separated, Jimin observing him, uncertain. 

 

“You go first,” Yoongi told him, thumb pressing on the knuckles of a smaller hand.

 

Jimin didn’t answer but Yoongi found himself suddenly empty. The man left, without looking back, breaking the last pieces of his heart.

 

He stayed there, standing immobile, until Jungkook appeared in front of him, jumping from one foot to the other.

 

“I’m sorry, _hyung_. But I’m really exploding.”

 

So he sighed, damned his life and left too.

 

 

**

The day after, they took their flight to Japan. It was crazy, even more than what they had expected. Even if the journey had been short, the mass of people rapidly closing onto him at the airport had made Yoongi hot and bothered. Even if he was surrounded by security, even if Seijin hadn’t moved from his side for one second, even if the members had circled around him in an attempt of taking most pressure away, Yoongi had still found himself slightly hyperventilating. The choking sensation had only stopped once they were alone again with their staff, away and safe from their fans.

Yoongi had sat together with Hoseok on the plane, distracting himself from his shaking knees with the younger man’s endless chatter. At one point, at a terrible dad joke that was more worth of Seokjin _hyung_ than Hoseok, he had even answered back. But for all the rest of time, he had just nodded, slightly smiled and pretended he wasn’t freaking out in anticipation of the arrival at Narita.

As they landed, Jungkook and Taehyung joined in the endless, senseless chatter. It got so out of hands, Yoongi almost forgot about the crowd waiting for them.

 

“I wonder what dogs would say if they could talk.”

 

“Probably nothing different from they already say now: give me a cookie, give me food, I want to go outside…” Hoseok answered, seriously considering the question.

 

“Or maybe they would evolve to conquer us all!” Taehyung added. “Think of it. No one can really say no to their puppy faces now. It would  be our end if they could speak too.”

 

“It would be creepy, though. Come on!” Jungkook protested, checking his seat one last time. Then he walked down the aisle.

 

Yoongi checked his seat too, glanced at Namjoon to make sure he hadn’t lost his passport anywhere, and followed the line of people walking out of the plane.

 

“Dogs are cute because they can’t talk. If they could talk they would just be strange humans,” Jungkook continued.

 

The discussion was turning quite weird.

 

“So you think everything that can talk is human? What about robots?” Taehyung asked.

 

“He has a point,” Namjoon said, unexpectedly joining the conversation from where he was ahead of them.

 

“But robots don’t have emotions, dogs do!”

 

“So for you, anything that speaks and has emotions can be considered human?"

 

They momentarily stopped talking as they reached the border control and their passport got checked, one by one. Then, as nothing had happened, the kids went back talking about dogs, humans, and feelings.

 

“If a species can talk and has feelings shouldn’t they be treated as our equals?” Jungkook had to raise his voice to be heard through the amounting noise. They were reaching arrivals, and Yoongi could already hear the chanting crowd waiting for them. Whatever answer the others had, it promptly got engulfed in the commotion.

 

Yoongi’s body tensed as the security tightened around them and Seijin _hyun_ g quietly got to his side.

Then, an arm wrapped his shoulders and squeezed. Yoongi didn’t even need to turn and look, he recognized Jimin from the green apples. Yet, his eyes couldn’t help but search for the other man, finding him staring ahead with a serious, resolute expression. The last time they had touched had been in the dorm, just before their departure. Since that first few kisses in the bathroom the night before, it was like they couldn’t be too far away from each other. They had made out at any moment they could, as soon as a room was empty. They had stolen moments of dark, quiet kisses that both of them couldn’t stop. Even the short flight had been a torture, and not only because of Hoseok’s blabbers. Remembering the kisses, the body pressed against his and seeing Jimin so far, sitting with Namjoon… Yoongi had felt jealousy bubbling inside his chest, pure desire and a touch of shame at being so unrestrained.

Because Jimin hadn't talked to him yet. They had kissed and kissed, ok? But there had been those “Yes we will, later”, “After the concert” things. How much could Yoongi really believe him, though? And yet, maybe Jimin was really just waiting for a better moment. It was true that they didn't have time to discuss love matters, just the two of them.

But it hurt to wait, it hurt to be kissed. It was a constant pain digging in his chest to be so close, to graze the soft skin of the wrist as they walked side by side. It was a dagger, hitting and hitting in the back, as Yoongi looked at Jimin and Jimin met his eyes. Smiling, luminous as the sun. So beautiful and so far away.

 

Jimin was driving him crazy, crushing him to the ground. But he was also always with him, always a few steps behind, ready to reach for him, to anchor him down against his body as they walked through flashes, cries and a faceless crowd.

 

Yoongi had been so lost in his thoughts, so lost in the sensation of being hugged by the other man, that he only half-noticed as they strode away from the mass of people that had momentarily obstructed their path. His mind went back to focus in a snap only the instant he was back on a car, the engine started and ready to drive to their hotel. Pressed between Jimin and Seokjin, an arm still engulfing him in a half-hug, its owner still a silent but solid, trusted presence beside Yoongi.

 

 

**

So he wasn’t happy to be left behind at the hotel. It felt like madness to stay by himself when he wanted to check on their concert location, to participate and finally go back to work as usual. Yet, he had the doctor's orders to rest after the flight, and everyone was taking them more seriously than Yoongi himself.

 

“We’ll have so many concerts in Tokyo in the future,” Taehyung had bumped into him from behind as they walked from their vans to the hotel’s lobby. “You worry too much, _hyung_.”

 

Yoongi had only shrugged, still unsure on how to express his feelings. He had stayed silent too, arms crossed over the chest, as the kids and managers left him. The last few days felt like an endless repetition of the same, uncomfortable moments. Being alone, kissing Jimin, feeling his heart slowly shrink. Being alone, the kids working, him lazing around with nothing to do. Rinse and repeat. Maybe that was how it felt like to be reincarnated again and again, as the same old soul living the same old life, without a nirvana to look for.

Yoongi needed something to break the routine, to end the infinite circle. Then he remembered something, something that he had almost completely forgotten between one emergency and the other. He almost hit himself in the head, and he would have if he hadn’t worried about the still very present bump on his temple.

He took the phone and called a number. He had a favor to ask.

 

 

 

**

“So that’s why I think robots will be considered humans, at one point or another…” Yoongi overheard the sentence from the other side of the table.

 

“Are you seriously still talking about that?” he asked Namjoon, quite impressed.

 

They had gotten back together for a very early dinner and they were having room service in one of their suites. They hadn’t felt like going out and they wanted all the chances to rest early to prepare for the next more taxing and full days. The conference and fan meeting, another entire rehearsal tomorrow. Then, in another day, the last practice, a photo shoot for Vogue Japan and finally the concert. They would need all their energies.

 

“It’s an interesting topic,” Jungkook grumbled through a mouthful of pizza.

 

“Uhm, uhm,” Yoongi smiled, amused. “You should all have been philosophers.”

 

“All artists can be considered philosophers,” Taehyung answered back. “We write what we think, our vision of the world, the meaning of life...”

 

“We are more intellectuals than philosophers,” Namjoon interjected.

 

The conversation was turning too serious too soon, so Yoongi promptly shifted his focus on the other side of the table, where Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jimin were busy talking about something that seemed funnier, as they were all chuckling behind their hands.

 

Then his eyes met Jimin’s, and he couldn’t control his body as for one second he stopped breathing. He was just _that beautiful_ , there, with a large happy smile, eyes crinkled in a half-moon shape. His now blond hair, framing his face in waves. He looked like the sun, so luminous, so blinding and yet so irresistible.

Yoongi was the first to look away but couldn’t help glancing back at the man as the dinner progressed, as the pizza was finished, as the few beers they had grabbed for themselves were emptied. He didn’t help as his members got up and started to clean. He excused himself by saying he still had a ring around the head, the sign of an oncoming headache. The truth was that he felt anchored to that chair, that he didn't know what he would do once up, standing, back to reality and not lost anymore in his despairing thoughts. He still had to share a room with Jimin, a decision he was now profoundly regretting– seriously, what was he thinking? And maybe Jimin would kiss him again, or maybe he wouldn’t. Perhaps the man would go to sleep, treat him as usual.

Or maybe, maybe he just needed to find his courage up again. Stop being the damsel in distress, the unrequited love interest. Maybe he needed to act now, without another pause, without another instant of painful turmoil.

 

_Yes, Yoongi._

_Do it._

 

And so he did. He took advantage of the chaos of seven people moving around a hotel room. He stood up, walked to Jimin and took one hand in his. The man, in the middle of cleaning up beer bottles, glanced up surprised but Yoongi didn’t let him talk. He looked at him, really, deeply, looked at him. With all the fire that was burning in him, with all the passion, the thunderous feelings he had repressed in his chest but that now were surfacing with only a little push.

 

And Jimin understood.

 

He turned red, his eyes bigger, his spine straightened, and a tongue wetting his slightly parted lips.

 

They didn’t even say goodnight.

 

They didn’t talk as they slipped away from the other members, leaving that room to reach theirs. They barely made it through the door.

As soon as they were inside, Jimin pushed him against the wall, domineering, and start kissing him fiercely, hands untying the buttons of his shirt. Yoongi, melted bones, and shaky knees, surrendered, all too happy to let him do whatever he pleased.

 

“I’ve waited for this forever.” The man whispered against his lips, for then biting hard. 

 

Yoongi moaned, feeling dizzy as his brain processed the information.

 

“Shower.” Jimin then murmured, and let him go just enough to hastily take off his own shirt.

 

They undressed each other like horny teenagers, fingers, and lips all over, needy and impatient. When they were finally naked - and Yoongi had seen him like this hundreds of time but _man,_ couldn’t help but stare – Jimin took his hands with a sensual smile and lead him in the pristine bathroom.

The water was scalding hot when the man hugged him against his chest, skin wet and pulsing. Jimin kissed him and kissed, grasping Yoongi’s chin in his fingers, stilling him and opening him up, the other hand traveling down his side and over to grab at his butt. He squeezed, and Yoongi moaned hard against his mouth.

 

 “I want this.” A deep murmur on his cheek. He shivered despite the hot water. “Do you want it?”

 

“Fuck yes.” Yoongi didn’t cry, as he nearly slammed his head against the bathroom tiled wall. Jimin took the reins as he had been waiting a lifetime for those two words. He squeezed his green apple soap in both hands and cleaned them fast and effective, not ignoring but not even paying special attention to Yoongi’s throbbing cock or his equally quite interested ass.

 

It got Yoongi by surprise when the water was suddenly turned off and he got pushed out of the bathroom, dripping wet but too busy in burning and possessive kisses to care. And again, two strong arms pinned him against the wall, this time with his bare back defenseless. Jimin pushed all his body against him, a promising weight between Yoongi’s open legs.

 

A mouth started attacking his neck, licking, biting and sucking. Immobilized and helpless, Yoongi moaned like there was no tomorrow.

 

“I want to be inside you,” a hot murmur grazed the skin of his ear.

 

Yoongi opened his eyes wide, suddenly short of breath and rock hard against the cool surface of the wall.  

 

“Holy shit,” he groaned, because what else could he say.

 

A chuckle and the mouth on his ear slowly but inexorably started his journey down, stopping to give him a hickey on the side of the neck, licking along his spine.

 

It was when Yoongi heard a couple of thumps on the floor that his mind supplied info on what was most probably going to happen. He instinctively made to turn, but two hands came to hold him back in place, hard against the wall.

 

 “You’re not going anywhere.”

 

Few, soft kisses on his lower back. Then Jimin’s mouth traveled down, down. 

 

Yoongi gasped, as something brushed over his opening. Then he moaned load as “ _My God_ ” a tongue curled inside him. He slammed a hand on the wall, unable to stop himself at the flickering, overwhelming pleasure as Jimin made him wet, open and ready. It went on for what felt like hours and hours.

 

“Fuuck,” he whined as one finger reached the tongue in his ass and filled him up, pumping in and out in a maddening rhythm. Then there were two fingers working their ways inside him deep and Yoongi was delirious, hanging on the wall for dear life, body completely owned.

 

After one final curl of the tongue and a lingering kiss on one cheek, he felt Jimin’s hands leaving him as he slowly stood back up on his feet. 

 

“Bed”, the mouth back against his neck.

 

Yoongi nodded, breathless and unable to form any word. Jimin took him by the arms and gently prodded him towards the double bed, where Yoongi let himself fall face down on the mattress. The cool sheets were like a soothing balm on his feverish skin, as the air was against his back. Then the bed dipped and a body crawled on top of him. Jimin nudged his temple with his nose, and then with his lips. Yoongi closed his eyes in bliss, as the man peppered one side of his face with small, lingering kisses and the fingers of one adventurous hand graced his ass and then went back to tease his entrance.

 

“Are you ready?” the soft murmur, as those fingers momentarily left him for then coming back coated in cold lube.

 

Yoongi groaned as he was forced open once again, a part of him distantly wondering where and when Jimin had started to be so prepared in fucking people in the ass. Then the groan became a loud, deep moan as the fingers thrust and thrust deep inside and touched a particularly sensitive bound of nerves. 

 

“Just fuck me already,” he whined desperately.  

 

Jimin chuckled in his ear.

 

The fingers disappeared in a heartbeat. Yoongi vaguely heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped but was too lazy and comfortable to move an inch. Let the young do all the job, anyway. Then something bigger nudged his entrance and he inhaled sharply, grasping the sheets under him. They both groaned as Jimin slowly but inexorably inched inside him. Hot, large.

 

 _So damn good_.

 

Yoongi pushed his face against the mattress, trying to breathe through the waves of pleasure and the sting of pain traveling up his spine and piercing his heart.  

 

Slow. So damn slow. As only torture could be.  

 

“You wanna kill me, Park Jimin,” he whined through gritted teeth. “Move, fucking move!”

 

A strangled laugh above him.

 

“So bossy”, but sounding so proud of himself Yoongi would have stopped and kicked him if he hadn’t been so spectacularly busy otherwise.

 

Then his wishes were fulfilled.

 

Jimin moved and pushed all the way in. He took him hard and strong, pinning him against the mattress, in and out. Leaving his breathless, mindless. Hitting the same spot over and over again, deep, ruthless, until Yoongi was only a piece of meat and nerves, completely undone.

 

When he couldn’t take it anymore - he _had_ to fucking come or he would die - he moved a hand to touch himself, but was grasped midway.

 

“No!” a gasp. 

 

Jimin took his hand and interlaced their fingers together beside Yoongi’s face, holding him down and hanging onto him.

 

That was probably what did it.

 

The mutual desperation, the pleasure on an almost painful level. The passion, the possession, and vulnerability. Those fingers, frantically hanging onto each other for sanity.

 

Yoongi came untouched, spilling on the white sheets.

 

Jimin came soon after, with a few particularly hard thrusts inside him. Then collapsed on his back.  

 

They gasped for breath.

 

“I’m never moving again,” Yoongi slurred after a while.

 

Jimin laughed huskily, breath tickling the short hair on his neck. They stayed immobile for long minutes, the younger man slowly softening inside him until Yoongi shifted to readjust his cramping legs. Then the man moved away and left the bed. Yoongi, deep low moan in the throat, found himself suddenly empty.

Boneless and satisfied to the core, he was already dozing off and intentioned to continue doing so, when a soft wet cloth grazed the skin of his back, his stomach, and his legs. He let out a wordless complain when the other man dislodged the sheets from under him, but then he was not lying in a wet spot anymore and a blanket covered him. It felt like paradise. The bed dipped again and a warm body, still faintly smelling of green apples, plastered himself against him, an arm around his torso.

 

Yoongi fell asleep, so unbearably fucked to exhaustion as he was, with a hand brushing through his hair and kisses on his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so close to the end. I can't believe it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and, as always, thank you to all the amazing people stopping by and commenting, leaving kudos and so on. 
> 
> EDIT 30/8: I had a very eventful summer and didn't have the time to write anything. I'm not leaving this fic like this, I promise!, I'm just waiting to go back to my normal life to finish it up!


	10. Chapter 10

Yoongi woke up one hour later feeling like shit.

He spent a moment breathing, looking up at the shadows playing on the ceiling. The curtains were swaying under the artificial, humming breeze of the AC, and only a thin ray of light was visible from outside. The room was otherwise dark, almost completely black, and no matter how much time Yoongi would spend looking up, his eyes wouldn’t probably see anything more than the bed under him, and the other body occupying it.

He inhaled and exhaled, thinking of nothing, and yet knowing quite well why he was awake despite the dull tiredness in his temples. His peacefulness was meant to only last for a nap, just enough to gain back some energies, but he was too upset, and the decisions he had made earlier that night had not helped.  

 

Sleeping with Jimin had not been the most excellent idea of his life, _ok_ , but he couldn’t regret it anyway. He had enjoyed every instant and even if now he couldn’t sleep… well, it was still a worthy price to pay.

 

He sighed and sat up on the bed, feet hanging on the side, grazing the cool floor. He didn’t want to leave the room, he didn’t want to find refuge in the washroom either, but lying down beside Jimin made him feel strange and jittery. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to get close. The only solution was to be in the middle, in that awkward position between staying and going, ready to jump down and walk away or to immediately feign sleep if the need arose. 

He didn’t move for what felt like a long time, but was most likely not even half of an hour, when he heard a sound behind him. Jimin shifted on the bedsheets and inspired long through the nose.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” his voice was rough and deep from sleep, “why are you awake?”

 

Yoongi shrugged.

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” was his simple answer.

 

A long, pained pause, and then:

 

“I think we should talk,” Jimin said.

 

_Here_ , the ax hanging over his head.

 

“Talk about what?” Yoongi asked, muscles tense.

 

Jimin moved to sit facing the wall in the distance, a careful distance from him. He let some seconds roll by in silence, and

 

 “The first time you kissed me you were drunk.”

 

What?

 

“I wasn’t drunk when you came back from the hospital,” Yoongi knitted his brow.

 

“No. Well…” the soft sound of fabric on fabric, another intake of breath. “Remember that time we drank and the day after we had the celebration with Wish?”

 

“And the dorm was on fire.”

 

“Yes. The night before, when you got drunk… you kissed me.”

 

Yoongi blinked, his mouth opening in surprise.

 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Jimin didn’t wait for a reply, obvious as it was, and kept going: “And still everyone kept saying I had to make a move. But you were too stressed, even after Kim. You couldn’t sleep, how could I have pushed this thing on you, with everything else you were dealing with already? And then that night at the hotel, when we kissed again, I thought…”

 

Yoongi waited, too afraid to move, to speak, to breath.

 

“I was so happy,” the bitter whisper, then a choked laugh: “Even if you were drunk and a mess and you nearly cried.”

 

He could hear the tilted smile in Jimin’s tone. He could paint it in his head, the way Jimin was probably looking at the white line of the floor tiles, barely visible in the darkness of their room, the small and yet strong hands gripping at the sheets, the shoulders curved inward. Yoongi could have turned and looked at the man just as easily, but he was afraid and too much of a coward.

 

“Everything was going so well and I was so certain, but then… Then…” Jimin stopped.

 

Then what?

 

Ah.

 

How could he have forgotten _?_

 

“The water bottle,” Yoongi forced himself to say.

 

“Yeah… when you kissed me I was so scared. For us, for _you_. You just had a tremendous panic attack, and I thought I could still stop, you know, at least for a little while. Until it all got back to normal. You were so upset... I thought I would make it worse.”

 

Another humorless laugh, its ringing scraping at the thin walls of Yoongi’s heart.

 

No.

 

He didn’t want to hear that. It was so far from reality he couldn’t let it slide. He reached out in the blackness and found Jimin’s little hand there where he had imagined it, fingers curled in tension around the bedsheets. He took it in his, distantly surprised at its warmth, and dig out the courage to speak.

 

“Everything is better with you,” he blabbed and regretted it immediately. Those stupid words were nothing like what he was feeling. They couldn’t even express half of it. Jimin was silent and still on his side, fingers still rigid under his.

 

It took only a moment before the other man talked again and Yoongi turned his eyes on him, this time unable to resist.

 

“When I woke up the day after,” Jimin said, and Yoongi could barely see him licking his lips in a nervous gesture, “I had already regretted everything: letting you go, not talking with you. And still, I thought I couldn’t go back, that I lost my chance. Everyone kept telling me to speak with you but I couldn’t.”

 

A strangled sound followed, a noise between a chuckle and a sob.

 

“I was keeping you away when you needed me the most.”

 

“You were scared,” Yoongi immediately replied, pained.  “I understand.”

 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

 

“You _didn’t_ ,” Yoongi stressed and believed it with all his heart.

 

They hadn’t talked much in that horrible week, and it had been a never-ending circle of hell, of self-hatred and doubt. Even so, Jimin had never really given up on him, he had never walked away and Yoongi was ready to go past the pain, to forgive and forget, and to finally start anew. If Jimin was willing to.

 

He moved closer, and searched into the other man’s face, looking for clues of thoughts and feelings in the curve of the mouth,  in the stretch of skin around the eyes. 

 

Jimin had a glassy, watery gaze when he finally met him.

 

 “I’m sorry,” he glanced up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, open and vulnerable.

 

"And I'm sorry I'm a mess," Yoongi replied back. “I’m sorry for what happened, for everything.”

 

“You’re not a mess. And nothing of that was your fault.”

 

Yoongi shook his head. He could have done things so much differently since day one, since that morning and the elevator. Ever since then, everything had been a collection of mistakes and false steps. Their life could have been much easier if he had reacted differently if he had talked more and repressed less. There were so many things he would change if he could.

 

“ _Hyung_ …”

 

Jimin’s hand escaped from his hold and came to caress his cheek, sweet and slow.

 

“You need to let go of this,” the hand moved to smooth over his furrowed brow. “You can’t control everything.”

 

“I shouldn’t have gone home by myself,” Yoongi muttered through his suddenly too tight throat.

 

“He would have found another day, another way.”

 

“If I had told someone of that first message, you wouldn't have drunk…" his voice broke and Yoongi was unable to continue without breaking down.

 

“You couldn’t have known.”

 

Jimin’s thumb caressed his cheek, as drying tears Yoongi hadn’t cried. Yoongi really didn't want to cry but blinked until he was sure he wouldn't.

 

“Let go of this,” Jimin murmured again. “Come back to us.”

 

Then he said, in another murmur:

 

“Come back to me.”

 

And Yoongi saw white. He reached over and grasped Jimin’s t-shirt, kissing him desperately, needy. He wanted to say so many things. His mind was spinning trying to make sense of all the emotions.

 

_You mean everything, you are everything. I can’t live without you, you give meaning to every minute of my day. You make me a better person. I want to be a better person for you. You are my life, my soul, my sun, my music._

_And you stayed with me, in the fitting room. You stayed with me to die._

 

He pulled Jimin to himself, holding him close.

 

“I am in love with you,” he heard himself say, lips still touching. Then, he suddenly realized: “I think I’ve loved you all along.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Jimin smiled and kissed him again, one single tear rolling down his cheek.

 

Yoongi caught it in his fingers.

 

**

 

The day after Yoongi felt like a new person, he was walking ten feet off the ground.

He couldn’t help but stealing glances at Jimin, with butterflies in the stomach and sweaty hands that he would wipe absentmindedly on his pants. He couldn’t help getting close, smile like a shy teenager and brush fingers against his at every opportunity. And even if he the members were stealing glances at them throughout the day, even if the coordi-noonas sent him some dirty looks because of how he was ruining his pants, Yoongi couldn’t care less, _really_ , because Jimin loved him and he loved Jimin.

 

It was also a breath of fresh air to be finally back to his normal idol life. Seeing how much his music meant to people reminded him why he liked his job, and why he had sacrificed so much. His happiness didn’t leave him as they left the fan-meeting and started their last rehearsal before the concert.

Yoongi didn’t have much to do, doctor’s orders, and yet he rejoiced in being together again with his members on a stage. It felt like a century since the last time he had sung too, even if it had been less than one week, but to have a microphone in his hands and to hear the kids singing made his legs shake in joy and almost forget everything else.

He also had a special bonus, one that he couldn’t ignore. Since he could sit in a corner, he had all the time and he was also in the right angle to look at Jimin’ass as he danced.  

 

It was a nice view.

 

Anyway, his happiness was contagious and even if BTS were as professional as ever, the members didn’t lose any chance to play around and to include Yoongi in their jokes and laughs. It was exactly like before, as the all the sasaeng/psycho mess hadn’t happened, and it made Yoongi’s cheeks hurt for how much he smiled.

 

At the end of the rehearsal, they returned to their hotel, where they shared a light and easy dinner in a private room of the inner restaurant. The meal itself didn’t last long, because even if they were in a brilliant mood, they were all tired as well.

As they left each for their own room, Yoongi found himself surrounded by Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook.

 

“You look happy, _hyung_ ,” Taehyung grinned.

 

Yoongi shot a quick glance to Jimin, who was walking in front of him and chatting with Namjoon.

 

“I am,” he admitted.

 

Jungkook didn’t miss the direction of his glance and patted him on the shoulder with a megawatt smile.

 

“Ah, finally!” he exclaimed, at the same time as Hoseok’s:

 

“Congratulations are in order, then!”

 

The trio laughed, and even if Yoongi was blushing till the ears, he didn’t have the heart to scold his _dongsaengs_. Nonetheless,  he was relieved to be again in his room, alone with Jimin, and far from naughty kids.

 

And well, being alone with Jimin offered a full spectrum of benefits.

His mind immediately leaped and reminded him of how they had spent the previous night, alone in their room. This time there was no heartbreak waiting for him too, only the full awareness that Jimin felt the same as him.

 

The other man must have had a similar idea, because he closed the door and didn’t take a step forward, preferring to check him from a safe distance, arms crossed behind the back. On his face, a playful, sly smile gave Yoongi all the courage he needed to walk the few steps between them and kiss him on the lips. 

_God_ , he tasted of chocolate.

 

He let Jimin go just for the time necessary to pull him slowly to the bed. They laid together, face to face, where they made out until their lips felt tender to the touch.

 

“Are you tired?” Yoongi murmured against the skin of his cheek, as one curious hand traveled along his spine.

 

Jimin only hummed and kept licking his neck. A big, fat _no_ , according to Yoongi’s dictionary. So he sneaked a hand across the younger man’s side, slipping under the white t-shirt, to palm his hard, hot abs.

 

_Mmh_ , that felt so good. 

 

Yoongi inspired in Jimin’s hair and pulled him a bit closer.

 

He inhaled again, long, and smiled at the faint smell of green apples. Eyes closed, he slowly moved the hand down, carefully gracing the waistband, caressing the skin with his fingertips. 

 

“What are you doing?” Jimin’s husky voice asked.

 

“Nothing,” he replied, so innocently.

 

“Mmh, mmh…”

 

The man sounded anything but convinced, and yet didn’t move. He only shivered as Yoongi pressed hard against him and kissed along the back of his ear, behind the earlobe and down the curve of the jaw. It was when he started to suck passionately at a specific point behind the ear that Jimin sneaked an arm around his neck and finally pulled him down to meet his mouth again.

 

“For one moment I thought you wanted to sleep…” he murmured with red, wet lips and a glint of amusement in his eyes.

 

“Let me take care of you,” Yoongi breathed against his cheek, for then leaving peppering kisses all along the side of his face, burning with pressing feelings.

 

He wanted to take Jimin, make him his as the man had claimed him the night before. Deeply, strongly. Without any more escapes, any more doubts. But more than that, he wanted to give Jimin everything he had been receiving and more. He wanted to make him feel loved, precious and treasured. As the wonderful being he was, blinding Yoongi with masculine beauty, capturing him with every angle of his soul.

 

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he purred against the skin of his neck.

 

Jimin shuddered beneath him and crashed them back together, head tilted up in the kiss. But Yoongi had other plans, and this time he was the one in charge.

 

He let go of the man’s mouth. He sat on his knees and stripped off the shirt, for then bringing both hands to do the same to Jimin. The man was seemingly so obedient, so submissive, laid open on the bed, there where Yoongi put him. And yet his liquid eyes talked of another story, of wild, waving feelings of power, of overwhelming passion. Yoongi realized the younger man was giving him control, as he himself had done for their first time. So freely, so trusting. Abandoned.

 

_Do what you please._

 

With a new fire burning in his guts, Yoongi leaned down and licked Jimin’s neck, sucked gently at his nipples. He then spent an indefinite amount of time kissing his belly, looking fascinatedly as its muscled clenched in breathless gasps.  

 

"You're so gorgeous," he murmured against his navel while working jeans and boxer off Jimin’s hips.

 

Now finally naked under him, _mmh_ what a marvel.

 

Yoongi’s head went south, leaving pecks here and there on the hot skin. Then, he reached the cock and Jimin inhaled and grasped his hair.

 

“Don’t worry, baby boy,” Yoongi whispered. “I’ll give you all the attention you need.”

 

He took Jimin in his mouth. Sucking, licking, bobbing his head up and down the length of the cock. Caressing the stomach with open palms, the inner tights, the velvet skin of his balls. He took him in his mouth with passion pumping in his veins, making himself painfully hard against his own jeans.

He followed the rhythm of Jimin’s hand on his head, he listened to his moans to trace a map of his pleasure. He wanted to make him crazy. He wanted him to see white and cum hard. 

 

At that point when he started tasting precome on the tongue, Jimin pulled him up and hugged him at the chest.

 

“Not now,” the man said between one kiss and the other. “I want you inside me.”

 

If Yoongi hadn’t already been rock-hard at that time, that single sentence would have served the purpose. There was nothing like looking down at Jimin and find a mischievous smile, ruffled hair, and open legs.  

 

He grabbed the man’s face in both hands.

 

“I’m gonna make you scream,” he purred, before giving him one last bruising kiss.

 

He sat up, took off jeans and boxer, and leaned over the bed to reach the nightstand, there where he knew the other man kept lube and condoms. He didn’t waste any time, Jimin closely observing him as he kneeled back between his legs. He kissed one inner thigh and the other, coating his fingers in lube. He poked at the entrance and at the man’s hiss, he raised his eyes to meet Jimin’s dark, unflinching gaze.

 

 “Do it.”

 

Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice.

 

He pushed a finger inside, sinking into the heat. Beneath him, Jimin arched his spine and moaned.

 

Yoongi wanted to make him see stars. So he pushed and pushed opening him with one finger and then another, taking him in his mouth again, one hand clutching at his side to hold him down.

 

Two fingers became three, as he thrust deep inside at the spot that made Jimin curl his toes and cry hoarsely. When the man was ready, wet, trembling and exposed, Yoongi opened a condom and put it on.

 

Fuck, his hands were shaking so bad.

 

Yet, he couldn’t stop. He moved on top on Jimin and was welcomed with another tight hug and ardent lips, hands caressing his cheeks, his temples, moving down to scratch at his back. Grabbing his ass and squeezing hard.

  

Yoongi panted against the man’s neck, positioned himself with one hand and finally – _oh fucking finally_ – pushed inside.

 

It was hot, so wet, so soft, so _good_.

 

He was painfully slow in the beginning, leaning all the way down, crashing and making Jimin bend beneath him. Mouthing his neck, his shoulders, biting him desperately, penetrating him up to the tilt.

 

And Jimin – _oh god, Jimin_ – he was a beast. Moaning load, scratching Yoongi’s skin with his nails, arching his back as he got pounded into the bed faster and faster. And they kissed, _man_ if they kissed. They only stopped to gasp, winded, hands searching each other, brows furrowed between overwhelming pleasure and madness.

 

When Yoongi pushed Jimin’s knees to his chest and the angle got deeper, Jimin whined and thrashed beneath him. 

 

“Yoongi… Yoongi, _please_.”

 

“I’ve got you,” he breathed against his lips and devoured his moans in a deep, ferocious kiss. “Let it go, baby boy.”

 

He curved a hand around Jimin’s dick and pushed hard inside him, one, two, three times.

 

Jimin came, shaking and crying. Yoongi came few seconds after, uncontrollable pleasure tightening his guts.

 

He let himself fall limbless over the other man, let them breathe together. As soon as he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his legs, Yoongi left him with a sigh and stood up to tie up and trash the condom. He grabbed a towel on the way and used it to wipe the cum on his stomach and then, leaning slightly awkward over him, to gently clean Jimin too.

The man was lying peacefully, bare and taken, and Yoongi couldn’t help but blush when their eyes met.

 

Damn, did he had just done that? Jimin looked positively ravished. And delicious. How was it possible that such a beautiful soul opened and accepted him inside, so totally, completely till the core…

He couldn’t stay away for one second more. He slipped back into bed, used the last of his stamina to pull a forceless Jimin on his chest. He cradled his head, wrapping him in his arms and kissed his forehead as he heard a peaceful sigh escape the man’s lips.

 

His eyes dropped as they breathed together.

 

"Did you set an alarm?" he asked before he could fall asleep completely.

 

Only a grunt answered him. Yoongi smiled, pressing his mouth against Jimin’s head.

 

Then his mind turned off.

 

**

 

“Wow, don’t I feel like a third wheel,” Seokjin murmured.

 

It was late afternoon, almost evening, and they were at Vogue Japan studio after a long and still fast day of activities.

 

“I could have gone with Taehyung and Namjoon, but no, here I am.”

 

Yoongi and Jimin didn’t have a chance to answer, as the flash of the camera was incessant and the instructions of the photographer wanted them sexy and brooding. However, he saw the hint of a smile on Jimin’s mouth. He had to fight a cheeky answer himself because it was kind of funny.

The three of them were sitting together on a sofa, with dark red and decadent, brocade curtains behind them. Seokjin had the luck of sitting exactly in the middle, knowing well somehow they were a couple.

Yoongi had been a bit uncertain at first, the older man was way taller than both of them and they risked to look like a stressed dad with his two bratty kids, but after checking the first few photos with the photographer, they had to admit the result was quite nice.

 

At least they didn’t have to listen to Seokjin complaining too much. After a few more poses, the Japanese photographer was satisfied and declared their session complete. As soon as he finished talking, the three of them were rushed to the dressing room, and they only had few minutes to thank everyone and change their clothes before BigHit staff drove them to Tokyo Dome. They were the last group to finish, the other members wrapping up their photo shoots before them, and they had to go through the vocal warms up, hair, make-up, and dressing. It was nothing they weren't used to, and since half of them had already started, the final preparation was bound to go on smoothly.

 

Still, Yoongi was feeling mo

 

“Nervous?”Jimin asked, shooting him an amused smile.

 

The question jangled in the silence of the car. Seokjin, who was writing quick texts to someone, turned to look from his seat at the front.

 

“Aaw, Yoongi,” he cooed, patting him on the leg, “everything will be fine.”

 

“I know,”  Yoongi replied, sounding slightly petulant to his own ears.

 

He must have not been too convincing too, because Jimin reached over to hold his hand and Seokjin kept looking at him as he was an adorable thing until they finally arrived and both men had their own stuff to worry about.

 

As he got handed from one group of _noonas_ to the other – first hair, then make-up, then clothes -, Yoongi couldn’t actually reflect upon what was really troubling him. Maybe he was anxious about sitting on the stage and not dancing; it was easier to perform if the muscles in his body remembered hours and hours of practice. He just had to trust it and let go, enjoying the overwhelming and inebriating feeling of a cheering ocean of lights in front of him. If he had to sit, however, he could think and if he could think he would worry.

And the surprise! Bang agreed to a little special thing at the end of the songs-lineup, and even if Yoongi knew it was something he had to do, he _wished_ to do it for Jimin, the anticipation was unnerving. Add that to the normal nervous pre-concert feelings and he couldn’t sit still. It was highly uncharacteristic from him, but it was obvious that everyone around him thought it was more endearing than anything else. BigHit staff was happy to have him back, especially considering the fact that in the last concert Yoongi had been in the hospital, and would smile at his impatient snorts, squeeze his shoulder and be even more attentive and supportive than usual.

As the time of concert approached and they were fully clothed and ready, voices warm to sing, Namjoon chose to use the last few minutes to usher everyone outside and led all the members close.

As he walked to the kids, Yoongi could already hear the distant sound of a stadium full of people, the low rumble steadily rising together with a thin trembling of the walls. It made his heart pump hard in the chest, his fingers tremble a bit.  

 

“Ok, guys,” their leader said, looking one by one into their eyes, “we went through some shitty stuff and it wasn’t easy. But we are still here together, and we have to be thankful for that.”

 

He put his hand over, hanging in the air in the middle of their circle and they all immediately copied his gesture, a pile of hands of the people Yoongi loved the most.

 

“Let’s do our job and make this night something to remember for us and for our fans. Ok?”

 

They shouted together their assent, energy, and enthusiasm up to the sky, and left the room after, ready for the concert like never before.

 

It went so well, Yoongi couldn’t describe the overwhelming feelings in his chest. How his heart wanted to explode from the name chant at the beginning, and the giant, never-ending applause that accompanied it, or the way fans roared and screamed themselves hoarse every time Yoongi would sing.

And when his cheeks were flushed from adrenaline and happiness at the end of the concert, Yoongi was aware there was still one little thing he had to do.

 

Lined up for their last words and thanks, he hung on for his turn to face the crowd and speak.

 

“I have a surprise for you all,” Yoongi gripped the microphone with both hands, gulping down his sudden nervousness.

 

He waited for the thunderous response of the audience to subside, looking around at the ocean of shimmering lights in front of him. He had anticipated this moment so much, and now he could feel his heart jumping in the chest. As he still was a rookie at his first concert or that awkward teenager at his auditions.

 

“Wow, a surprise from Suga!” Hoseok exclaimed.

 

“It must be great,” Namjoon added, dimples showing.

 

Yoongi nodded, a gesture made more to grasp back at his confidence than to confirm. 

 

“It’s something I wrote in the last few months, a little song,” he continued.

 

He glimpsed around at the members standing on a line like many other times before. So similar and still so different.  A bit older, now. Mature. Closer to each other.  

 

“When I first started writing it I thought it would be darker, sadder. It was the symbol of the last few months and, you know, It had not been easy.”

 

He gulped and looked down at the hands gripping the microphone, trying to find his composure in the middle of twisting, scratching feelings. A cry of distress rose from the audience, like the wind before a thunderstorm, and for a second Yoongi despised the giant screen behind him, the blatant display of his pain. Then he remembered he had chosen this, he had chosen to tell the world and _fuck the rest_.

 

So he tightened the hold on the microphone and straightened the shoulders too. When he looked back up at the black stadium, he had the resolution of making his next few words a moment in time that he would never regret.

 

“I talked with someone,” he started again. “I spent time with them. I had the chance to know them better, chances that I overlooked in the past. I understood something in these months.”

 

He turned on his right and glanced past Jungkook and Seokjin. His eyes landed on Jimin, at the figure shifting on his feet, looking back at him, so bare, so raw, so vulnerable.

 

Yoongi took a deep breath, not daring to look away, but at the same time feeling a lump growing in his throat.

 

“Even at the darkest moment of your life, you just need to stretch a hand,” he said, voice breaking. “There will always be someone out there for you.”

 

His eyes burned. He fought back tears.

 

“Oh my god, is he crying?” Taehyung asked, immediately starting a chorus of _please don’t cry,  please don’t cry_ through the crowd.

 

Yoongi smiled despite himself and reminded himself to add a few more important words.

 

“I’m so grateful to all of my members. They cared for me as I was family, silently and without asking anything in return.”

 

He glanced at each one of them briefly but solemnly, and then stopped when his eyes locked again with Jimin’s.  

 

“I wouldn’t be here, standing now in front of you, if it wasn’t for them,” he said, unable to look away, transfixed in every detail of his lover’s face.

 

“I wrote this song for them.“

 

At that moment, the music started, the members hugged tightly around him, and the audience cheered and exulted. At that moment, with Jimin’s eyes in his, Yoongi knew that they would be alright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Finally the end. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry it took so long to complete it.  
> My summer was busier than I had thought and there were some parts that I didn't like, so I had to rewrite them.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for staying with me until the end. Thank you for all the comments and kudos and favorites and so on.  
> I'm already working on two one-shots, one that I'll probably post next week, so I hope I'll see you again.
> 
> Ciao!


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